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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29752803">Runaway Baby</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaWeathers/pseuds/VanillaWeathers'>VanillaWeathers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Apples and trees, But He Gets Better, Carnival, Charming Louis Tomlinson, Cheescakes and champagne, Daddy Issues, Dates and kissing, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rich Harry Styles, Summer, harry's a little sad, snapchat texts, some alcohol usage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:49:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29752803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaWeathers/pseuds/VanillaWeathers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The skies are cerulean and the air is sticky, warm and scented citrus as the last few weeks of summer vacations bring with it an unexpected turn in Harry's diamond studded, yet mundane life. It's Harry learning to let go and falling in love with the world again. It's falling in love with Louis Tomlinson through unexpected means.</p><p>or</p><p>The one where a wrongly sent Snapchat message changes it all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Runaway Baby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsforever/gifts">lsforever</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hiii! This fic is written for the Snapchat message prompt for Secret Valentine 2021. I really hope I haven't strayed too much or massacred anything and done justice to it. The title is from the song 'Runaway Baby' by Bruno Mars; I adore that song far too much :')</p><p>Massive, MASSIVE thank you to my beta <a href="https://destieliscanonnow.tumblr.com/">Busra</a>. I am nothing without you and there's no way I would've even gone on with this fic without you cheering me on. Thank you, thank you, thank you, you're everything.</p><p>Also, warm hugs to Tanya for talking me through the basics of Snapchat since I've never actually used that app (bizarre, I know). Thank you, love youu!</p><p>Anyhow. Here we go :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SNAP!</p><p>Harry winces, nose scrunched and brows furrowed as he lowers his phone from eye level, one hand still holding two bright red apples, glazed in speckles of cool water, combined with sunshine dripping down upon them, further adding to the sheen. They’re a very nice pair of apples, picked from Niall’s father's farm further across the country and brought right up till his own home, right at his doorstep. He’s absolutely thrilled. </p><p>The picture of it on his phone looks rather grand too. Snapchat does its work of adding to the artificiality even though Harry’s not too fond of that (organic, natural, ridden from any filters is his way to go, yes), he can make do. He needs to send the picture to Zayn and Liam for now, has to share the excitement of receiving winter’s first apple harvest. All in a proper crate that still lies at his doorstep.</p><p>“Harry!”</p><p>The picture shakes in a blur of filters and bright oncoming sunshine as Harry jolts, finger sliding on the sliding filter bar on his screen. He barely manages to keep his grip on the apples, his fingers now slightly aching with the weight.</p><p>“Come on, come on, come on!” Niall’s jolly, ever so excited voice sails through the afternoon lull. He’s beside Harry before the younger boy even realises, hurriedly bending to roll the apples back into the crate at his feet. Snapchat is still open and he doesn’t have time to even look down again. “We’re going to be late, come- oh hello, the apples are here!”</p><p>Thank fuck.</p><p>Harry slowly moves away from the crate and the onslaught of pungent perfume and freshly washed blonde hair that smells a lot like pears and peaches. It’s a mildly disastrous combination, spicy and sweet. Niall bends down to drag the crate away from the doorstep, chattering away as he does so. “I’ve to inform dad that they’ve arrived Harold, he’s probably waiting for the message, can’t really keep an old man waiting now, can we?”</p><p>‘Whoaa!” Harry feels himself get dragged away <em>while </em>Niall keeps talking, radiant and glowing under the sunshine that splatters on their faces as they stumble outside the coolness of the bungalow. </p><p>“What’s the hurry?!” Harry squirms a little, fingers haphazardly trying to find Zayn and Liam’s snap contacts on his dim screen. The sun is high up in the sky, everything blazing away in its wake and beating down upon Harry’s pale skin, searing through the red and brown flannel he has pulled on. </p><p><em>‘The apples are finalllyyy hereeee :)’</em> he manages to type in on the picture (does it have a filter on? It’s hard to even make out), barely watching his step on the concrete, rows and rows of green bushes and large freshly mowed lawns running along either side of the posh neighborhood. </p><p>He fucking hates summers.</p><p>“The carnival closes at five <em>p.m</em> not a.m Harreh, it’s a day carnival, not a night one so we have to make it in time before everything shuts and we end up not savouring the last few weeks we have before term starts and we’re locked up in our rooms with your dad’s many maids and shitload of books and greasy food-”</p><p>He hates Niall too, yes.</p><p>Well, maybe not completely. But when Niall starts talking and doesn’t stop for what feels like forever, all while maintaining that annoyingly giddy, energetic persona- that's when Harry starts questioning <em>who </em>his best friend even is. </p><p>Harry feels himself getting tugged just as he manages to somehow find the contacts on his phone and click on them with all the bright light encasing the shitty, dimly lit screen- before his joint nearly gets dislocated. </p><p>“<em>Niall!</em>” Harry grits out, pushing away the tumbledown of curls and sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looks down at his phone only once- which has gone back to the homescreen- before huffing out and stuffing it in his jean pocket. Well. Fuck that. He can send the snap later, who <em>cares</em>. </p><p>Cuz Niall fucking Horan needs attention right now.</p><p>“Why are we walking all the way till there, again?” Harry feels himself getting gently tugged to his best friends warm, fragrant side, inhaling the scent of his hair. Pear and peaches, definitely. It’s way better than his own weird, strong coconut one. “I’m sweating, Ni. Gonna stink now.” </p><p>“Cuz it’s not very far and i don’t want to take advantage of your dad’s fancy ass Rolce lying temptingly in your garage.” Niall kisses the side of Harry’s head, right at his temple and it’s fucking cute, is what it is. Okay, so maybe Harry doesn’t hate him at all. </p><p>“Okay.” Harry shrugs as Niall guides them down the road, the gigantic, posh bungalows on either side bringing in scents of fresh dew and artificial scented grass and trees peppered in tiny, tiny buds. All of it decorates only the fronts, while the actual bungalows lie in large columns, massive and stretching across in a mix of richly painted cement and thick, gold designed pillars with ivy curling down and tons and tons of modern designs decorating every corner of the expanse that screams of wealth and luxury, </p><p>Harry still doesn’t quite know if he likes it or not.</p><p>Because it’s just really fucking massive, you know. It’s what he has grown up; being surrounded and lauded with, everything that reeks of wealth and is painted in gold and splattered with limited edition decors, pricey show pieces and everything his father has invested into his own life. Wealth sort of just runs through the bloodline and it’s…. A lot. Unnaturally fancy in comparison to Harry’s contrastingly slow, simpler thoughts and ideas.</p><p>He knows he’s spoilt with so much unnecessarily, hoarded wealth and can get any fucking thing he wishes for, but it’s funny sometimes because everything he thinks of and feels is all so... Boring in comparison. It’s like a ripple of soft silence being perpetually surrounded by static, by <em>noise</em>. Bang, bang, bang. Everything is so loud and screaming of substance, worth and value and Harry feels all the energy seep out of his soul when he thinks about it properly. </p><p>He’s just taking all of it for granted, maybe. That doesn’t make him a bad person though, he really hopes so.</p><p>“Lost in there again, Harold?” Niall’s laugh resonates against the barrage of clumpy, sleep hazy thoughts running through Harry’s mind, turning to the large smile, watching Niall’s finger tapping on his temple. “Snap out of it, talk to me!!”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s a very hot afternoon and I’m dying Ni.”</p><p>Niall’s laugh washes through the solitude and rustle of wet leaves and sprays of water fountains in the distance, the Carnival entrance slowly coming in view. It’s a joyful sight of life, festive and amusement rides and yes- Harry wants to enjoy this. Wants to enjoy these last few weeks without anything holding him back. </p><p>He barely hears the three buzz’s of his phone in his back pocket, feet firmly averted towards the burst of color awaiting only a few metres away.</p><p>***</p><p>“Oh my God.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Oh my <em>God</em>.”</p><p>“Something’s wrong with the candyfloss?”</p><p>“No- I fucked up. Oh my <em>God</em>, I fucked up.”</p><p>“What-” Niall’s sugar stained pink lips glint through the absolute wreckage that is Harry’s vision, everything blurring in an odd combination of strangers and festivity. “Harreh?”</p><p>“This is all because of you, don’t even talk to me.” Harry swallows, staring at the screen for even longer because the moment is dramatic and he really isn’t anything if not that. The way his stomach keeps churning with all the chocolate and candy floss and weird fizzy drinks he’d consumed isn't helping. The sun is hot and fiery and everything is a colossal fucking mess. </p><p>“Okay, so.” Niall prompts, eyebrows raised and holding a stick of more sickeningly pink candy floss. He looks rather cartoonish in the plastic ears they’d won at one of the stalls, but- no. That’s not even the point. He’s cool as a clam, sweaty and pink cheeked as he speaks, “Did someone send you their nudes by mistake or-”</p><p>“Even worse! This- i sent the snap, the uh- apples snap from before we came here to..”  Harry trails away, swallowing down the sugar scraping the insides of his mouth. He needs to rinse it, everything feels churny, “Louis T.” He frowns. </p><p>“Who’s that?” Niall perks.</p><p>“Exactly! I sent it by mistake, you <em>dick</em>. All because you wouldn’t stop fucking dragging me while i was trying to send the picture and shit- he has actually responded.” Harry gasps, hand clapping on his mouth, green eyes wide and ablaze. “Didn’t our parents tell us not to talk to strangers?”</p><p>“Uh…”</p><p>“So, he’s a stranger. I can just ignore him.” Harry breathes out, eyes still fixated on the screen. His breathing is slowing down though and his lungs may not burst at any moment.. </p><p>A toddler whimpers in the distance, the joyous, frightened yells of children on merry go-rounds filtering through the blur of heat and sugar and sound.</p><p>“He might be a mutual friend.” Niall tears off a piece of his cotton candy, nonchalant as ever. His cheeks are so bizarrely pink, even Harry’s most expensive face scrubs and imported skin products don’t ever bring out a color like that. He really doesn’t know <em>why </em>he’s even noticing any of that- not right now at least. Not now, no.</p><p>“He wouldn’t be in your recommended contacts or like, in the list itself if he wasn’t a mutual.” Niall continues, chewing the sugary pink candy and licking his lips. “So. What did he say? Like, what did he respond with?”</p><p>“Why the fuck are you so calm?”</p><p>“Because <em>you’re </em>the one dealing with it, not me.” Niall shrugs before adding, “Duh.”</p><p>The fucker.</p><p>“You know what.” Harry clicks his tongue, clicking his phone shut and relishing the sight of the dark, blank screen that stares back. So much more peaceful than the constant awful brightness. He averts his eyes to the blue, cloudless sky, listening to the faint sounds of birds chirping amongst summer vegetation and crickets belting out tunes in the distant mossy clumps of grass. His eyes drop down to Niall who is still happily chewing. Then he shrugs and sashays because it feels strangely appropriate, “I’m gonna check it at night  by myself, not around your jumpy ass. Who knows what I might end up saying with you around.” </p><p>“With <em>me </em>around?” Niall gasps, clutching his chest and smearing pink dye all over the sweaty fabric. “After all this time, Harreh?”</p><p>“After all this time Ni.” Harry laughs towards the beams of sunlight hitting his face, eyes upwards and beyond the barely there clouds as he walks away. His heart is still hammering and he does still sort of want to throw up so he decides to mingle back into the crowd instead, letting himself get swept away in the ecstatic buzz and colorful mess that is youth and life.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>‘Louis.T’</em>
</p><p>Harry stares.</p><p>He stares and stares and stares until he is forced to blink through the exhausted dampness in his eyes. The room blurs in shades of evening blues and semi pink skies spilling in through the drawn curtains, air conditioning cooling his freshly showered body that still feels warm and sticky on the insides. Fuck that disgusting candy floss Niall had made him eat. He shouldn’t have even accepted it.</p><p>Anyway.</p><p><em>‘Louis. T</em>’. Yes.</p><p>So Harry takes a deep, cold breath, rib cage rattling as he slowly digs himself deeper into the duvet, feet itching in the polka dotted cotton socks he has pulled on. He smells like flowers and washing powder, a sweet contrast to his cool bedroom and the sticky, humid weather outside. It’s all blue now. </p><p>The screen is dimmed slightly but it’s still jarring when he clicks on the photo reply he had received from <em>Louis T, </em>everything dramatically stilling when the photo plays and the world outside shines bluer and heavier in slick air.</p><p>It’s… A pear.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Harry squints, bringing his legs closer to his body, his t-shirt hanging off his broad shoulders and feeling cool on his skin. The room smells rich and invigorating as he holds a thumb down on the screen and stares at the single picture of a fresh, green pear being held in a small palm- with a flower crown filter draping the girth of it. <em>Wow</em>.</p><p>Quickly, Harry takes a screenshot.</p><p>He winces at the sound as the picture gets clicked and reminds himself to turn off the annoyingly loud sound system. Air conditioned air licks the back of his neck as he cranes down and zooms into the picture to see the text written: ‘<em>My pears finalllyy camee tooo xx</em></p><p>Wait.</p><p>Wait, what.</p><p>Did… Did Harry just get mocked?</p><p>He, himself is the only person he knows who types like that. Well, he just likes it that way, yeah? It seems friendlier and not monotonous and hey- this stranger here, <em>Louis T </em>or whatever cannot be mocking him for it! Only <em>Harry </em>talks that way. Or texts, whatever. </p><p>So he types back a text, fingertips cold on his screen as more muted light spills through the cracks in the drapes.</p><p>
  <em>‘That’s just a single pear tho’</em>
</p><p>Yes, good. That sounds nothing like him but that’s sort of the whole point.</p><p>There’s only cold silence and the gentle fluttering of his luxurious, thick curtains alongside the hum of the air conditioner when Harry almost decides to tuck his feet to the side and simply go to bed (he’s had a long day after all)- but the buzz of his phone stops him immediately.</p><p>Oh. Oh so Louis is replying now.</p><p>Well, fuck.</p><p>It’s nerve rattling and every breath is too strong with artificial cold but Harry does open the reply: ‘<em>Oh :( in that case, you had just two apples yourself’</em></p><p>Harry’s fingers practically fly across the keypad, eyes wide. ‘<em>I have an entire crate actually! Not one or two.’</em></p><p>One second. Two seconds. Three. Then four.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>
  <em>‘Exactly! you must get me :)’</em>
</p><p>Another buzz. Every particle jolts.</p><p>‘<em>mine are from my backyard btw hahaaa xx’</em></p><p>What.</p><p>What is… going on.</p><p>‘<em>you grow pears in your backyard???’ </em>Harry slowly types it out, sleep beginning to cloud his thought process, everything dulling down. </p><p>‘<em>yeahh! do you not??’ </em>Comes the reply, Harry’s cold toes twitching as he furrows his brow.</p><p>It’s so odd but he likes the anticipation that burns the air through every breath he takes in.</p><p>‘<em>do i not grow pears in my backyard?’ </em>He types back.</p><p>‘<em>well... like, anything? do you grow anything?’</em></p><p>So… many questions. Harry’s probably having a minor overload now so he stretches back, feeling his joints literally crack in response as the bed shifts underneath. He’s too creaky to be eighteen, it’s such a sad, sad thing. </p><p><em>Do </em>they grow anything though? Harry doesn’t even know. He’s shifted so many homes and lived in so many uber class apartments and mansions and villas with all the fanciest shit being draped around his neck and scenting his skin and highlighting every little part of his life.. It’s hard to even keep track of the more trivial stuff that makes part of the entirety of all of it. Like, <em>fruits</em>? He has Niall’s father arrange for those as and when he wishes for the freshest kind, but is any of it even grown at his own home?? He doesn’t fucking know.</p><p>This is sort of embarrassing. Heh.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>Harry’s own thoughts and limbs jolt in unison as his head snaps back down, reading the new text that came in.</p><p>
  <em>‘what about lemons or oranges?‘</em>
</p><p><em>‘oh do you grow those too?’ </em>Harry types back, keypad blurring as he muffles a yawn.</p><p>‘<em>yeahh they grow really well haha x’ </em>Comes the response.</p><p>Eh. Was that supposed to be a fun fact? Was Harry supposed to find it endearing? Well, he’s just confused, see. It’s always sort of like that, everything in his mind feels so painfully sluggish.</p><p>‘<em>they all grow on trees then?’ </em>He asks, just because he can</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>‘yup! you don’t grow anything at all?’</em>
</p><p>There. Again with the same question.</p><p>This is just.. Mildly embarrassing alright? Harry knows exactly where every polished artifact and gold plated miniature statue and every other materialistic, expensive entity his father simply splurges on, is kept. But he does not know whatever the fuck goes on in his majestic bungalow’s backyard. He spends far too much time indoors, probably.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>Harry squints, black spots dancing and the moon rising beyond the windows. </p><p>
  <em>‘should i… take that as a no? :(‘</em>
</p><p>Well.</p><p>The message is actually oddly intimidating. Harry has no idea why.</p><p>‘<em>sooo, what. are you an agriculturist or smth?</em>’Harry types back instead, ignoring the tempting pull of sleep at his limp body. </p><p>Buzz.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>‘<em>noo why would you say that??’</em></p><p>‘Because we’ve been talking about fruits for way too fucking long now.’ Harry chides to himself, huffing out a breathy laugh. Instead he cracks his knuckles and shifts further into the duvet and starts typing out before abruptly receiving another message from Louis.</p><p>
  <em>‘haha okay i get it now, too much fruit talk? ;)’</em>
</p><p>Harry really can’t help but smile at that, huffing out a small laughter reserved for his own ears and the steady thrum of the air vents in the walls above him. So Louis is friendly and nice of sorts and yeah, he likes fruits, clearly. </p><p><em>‘thats okayyy! I dont mind’ </em>Harry types out, stifling a large yawn which of course, combined with his slow, drowsy thought process and the excitement of talking to a stranger ebbing away now prompts him to further say:<em> ‘m really tired, like, sleepy’</em></p><p>The screen glares up at him, everything around lulling as the day finally dwindles down outside the windows and the stars take over the hot sky, blues cooling down to deeper shades of black and grey. The long, long summer day has finally come to an end. </p><p>And so has Harry’s capacity. The final one, after pushing for far too long.</p><p>So he doesn’t bother waiting for a response, exhaustion crashing through the surface and rippling right through his bones as he hurriedly mutes his phone and flings it away, losing it somewhere near the ebony side table (antique, yes. Des Styles is a picky man). Harry breathes in the sterile air, settling into the duvet and curling his legs close to his warm body, everything smelling of faint lavender and some strong scent that is perpetually punched into the air within the confines of his home. Must be some fragrant spray or something, he doesn’t know nor care. </p><p>The room disappears and so does reality as Harry slips away, body loosening and mind drifting somewhere into the distance, towards hot summer mornings and sugary candy floss and fruit orchards and the curious little texts of someone called Louis T.</p><p>***</p><p>“So. Zayn.” Harry clicks his tongue, skimming the warm palette, “Zayn?”</p><p>“Yeah, who? Wait, what.” Zayn’s eyes finally, <em>finally </em>avert back up, arm neatly poised on the glass kitchen table, sunlight glinting in through the tiny, transparent windows of the kitchen. The room smells of butter and pancakes and Zayn’s lips stay dotted with raspberry as he keeps his phone away, turning his full attention towards a very amused Harry, “Who were we talking about?”</p><p>Yeah. Of course he wasn’t paying attention.</p><p>Harry licks his own lips, keeping away his now empty plate that was once loaded with pancakes and drizzled with sickeningly sweet raspberry sauce (he’s probably going to become diabetic at the rather obnoxious rate he’s going). The glass topped kitchen table feels cool on his fingertips as he gently slides off and stalks towards the stainless steel refrigerator, feeling Zayn’s gaze on him, “Louis T. Do you know him?”</p><p>“Tomlinson? Louis Tomlinson?” Zayn’s voice rises from behind, Harry’s brows furrow against the white light spilling into his face before he pulls out the ice cream bars he was looking for and shuts the refrigerator. It’s an awfully big fridge, probably a little too big considering the number of people who even live at the house, but hey- what’s the point if things aren’t always over the top and Harry doesn’t grimace at every other resplugent object in sight. </p><p>“I guess so, yeah. He must’ve been in my recommended contact list or something. On snapchat.” Harry shrugs, tearing off the wrapper of the ice cream bar and resting his back against the counter, eyes on Zayn’s slim, artfully designed face. It<em> is </em>a rather gorgeous face, dark eyes and perfect jawline and all that, so he might as well have been specifically, <em>specially </em>designed to look like that. Harry has some odd thoughts. “I uh, sent him the snap i’d sent to you and Li yesterday, we sort of ended up talking a bit last night after that.”</p><p>“Louis Tomlinson.” Zayn says, mostly to himself, lips now breaking into a plainly curious and surprised smile. He tends to get that whole eyebrow raised and tongue peaking to the side look when he’s amused. Harry knows how to read him fairly well. Another perk of having studied Zayn Malik’s skillfully designed face since junior year. “He’s… He’s mates with a few of my mates if I'm not wrong. I <em>think </em>we knew each other in Grade 10.”</p><p>Oh. Well, a little more than three years can’t be a long time.</p><p>“So you do know him.” Harry raises an impressed brow, “So, like- shit!” he curses, electricity jolting right through the veins reaching his brain and zapping the nerve endings as he pops the ice cream out of his mouth, teeth clenched. Brain freeze, ha. How fun. So he squirms it off, opening his eyes to a very delighted Zayn, “<em>Anyways</em>, yeah, so you do know him. He was very odd.”</p><p>“Oh, he was a proper show off. High and mighty, like.” Zayn shakes his head, dark hair licking the back of his neck as he runs a hand through it. “I never really mingled with him, but yeah, mate. Super odd guy, very like, clever. Oversmart too, I guess.”</p><p>“You guys were <em>fifteen </em>though.” Harry frowns, not very fond of the judgement done so offhandedly. Zayn can be very straightforward, yeah, he’s not overly diplomatic and coy unlike.. Well. Harry, obviously. “A little too harsh, innit?”</p><p>“Not really.” Zayn hops off the slender stool, feet hitting the fine wood flooring as he stretches his back, tattoos aglint on his collarbones. “Keep talking to him, you’ll probably just figure it out yourself.”</p><p>“And… You’re off?” Harry raises an eyebrow, sticking the ice cream back into his mouth, vanilla ghosting his semi sweet breath. “Already?”</p><p>“Yeah, man. Li has some horse riding competition at the ranch, super weird stuff. Says it’ll help in the university profiles and stuff, so, like-” Zayn shrugs, turning to watch Harry’s figure as he walks backwards, “-have to be there, i guess.”</p><p>Ah. Well. It does make sense.</p><p>Because unlike Harry who had way more opportunities and incentives to get admissions into universities with a thick bundle of cash perpetually tucked into his metaphorical pocket and stashed away in multiple safes, his best friends needed to actually <em>slog</em>. Harry did slog a bit too, yes, but he knows it isn’t the same at all. He understands that -always has- and the guilt of it does sometimes churn his insides but hey, that’s just how it is. Bang, bang, bang. It’s all too loud, it’s always too loud, everything he is surrounded with and the wealth glazing every object his fingertips skim screams so loud. Of privilege. Of class. He’s a spoilt fucking eighteen year old kid. </p><p>Cool down, Styles. </p><p>“When's your dad back home?” Zayn calls out, his thick accent further muffling Harry’s incessant, exhausted thoughts. He’s at the door, fingers poised on the ornate handle. A maid skims away the empty plates on the kitchen table, soundless as ever. Harry feels a little sick, the ice cream bar feels disgusting on his tongue. </p><p>“I donno.” He replies, pulling the stick off of his tongue and chucking it into the bin, “He never mentions.”</p><p>There’s a pause. </p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Zayn’s not at the door anymore, having silently stalked upto Harry with a warm smile, features all neatly pulled into something honeyed and kind. “You want to go out? Sometime this week after Li’s tournament? Something to get your mind off of…” he shakes his head softly, huffing out a breathless laugh as his hands motion around Harry’s head, curls askew, “Off of whatever’s going on in there.”</p><p>“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Harry blushes deep red, a tiny squeak escaping his lips, “And yeah, sure. I’ll just.. Stay indoors for now, i guess. Nearly got a sunburn with all the parading around at the carnival with Niall yesterday.”</p><p>“Yeah, that fucker.” Zayn slowly backs away, not forgetting to lightly pat Harry’s cheek with an affectionate smile before that. He reaches for the door again, footsteps light on the wood, “See ya, Harry. Don’t get too bored, mastubrate or something.” He huffs out a laugh that sails away as the door thumps shut.</p><p>Well.</p><p>Harry’s cheeks are still slightly red and his head feels strangely big as he turns around to face the mostly empty, yet loud home, only the soundless footsteps of few of the maids and cleaners resonating through the massive corridors and giant rooms on all three floors of the mansion.The air conditioning stays turned on all through the day to battle the searing heat outside the windows, everything cool and scented and enough to make one breathless.</p><p>Such a giant fucking house, all for one quiet boy and his loud thoughts.</p><p>***</p><p>Harry receives a picture of Louis’ backyard that morning.</p><p>It’s when Harry was upside down on his beloved bed, duvet pulled all the way up till his neck and legs sprawled up the wall with music blaring from the embedded speakers in his room- when he felt his phone buzz underneath his thigh. </p><p>It’s not a surprise when he sees Louis’ text, the chat bubble staring at him with a hidden smile.</p><p><em>‘just woke up myself, hope you slept ok x’ </em>says the first text, provoking a tiny laugh out of Harry’s very amused mouth as Arctic Monkeys croons through the speakers.</p><p>And then, there’s a photo.</p><p>Harry slides his legs off the wall and squirms as his torso muscles squeeze a little too hard. The bed dips under his weight, sleeveless tank top hanging off his mildly tense shoulders. The music swirls through the cold gusts of air through the vents.</p><p>It’s a pear tree in its early stages of growth. <em>Louis’ </em>pear tree.</p><p>The branches aren’t spread out yet but the pears are ripe and hanging off the branches in neat, fresh looking clumps, leaves bright and green as sunlight encases the tree as a whole. The morning sun is ruthlessly blazing..</p><p>And then there’s Louis’ arm. </p><p>It’s not really visible, mostly framing only one corner of the bright, colorful, summer hued picture, but it’s definitely there and Harry doesn’t miss the dark ink of a tattooed rope on Louis’... right hand? It’s probably his right hand, yeah. His arm is outstretched but not fully, only a small portion of his arm until his wrist stays visible. </p><p>Harry is intrigued.</p><p>‘<em>my fav tree, i have one despite not being an agriculturist haa’ </em>says the text on the side, the picture glaring up at Harry with a large smile. Which, naturally prompts an amused one of his own. </p><p>It feels so strangely… intimate, seeing part of a stranger's <em>backyard</em> this way.</p><p>So Harry thinks a bit, legs hanging off the edge of his bed and brow furrowed as he thinks and thinks and thinks. Zayn had called Louis ‘high and mighty’ and ‘over smart’ and well, Harry really isn’t too fond of judgements being made like that, but… he could actually be right. He could be really precise about this. Louis does strike as a little odd and a tad too forward but he’s fucking cute in a few ways. Mildly endearing, like. Harry doesn’t mind admitting it, he likes the curl of warmth it gives his sugary insides.</p><p><em>‘it’s like your tree is glowing. Its on fireee’ </em>Harry types back, relishing the gush of gradually building thrill it gives him. His polka dotted socks stick to his toes, the silence of the room and the cool air making him feel strangely invigorated. Summer is burning away out of the confines of his room.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>Harry’s gaze snaps down fast, the gentle drip of thrill beginning to surge faster, steadier, making him giddier. </p><p><em>‘isnt it ;) everything is sorta burning outside’  </em>says Louis’ text, the screen bright and glowing in Harry’s softened face. </p><p><em>‘the world is on fireee :D’ </em>Harry hums under his breath as he types it out and sends it, kicking his legs out and sliding back into the cool duvet. The speakers have gone silent, everything feeling heated and mushy and flower scented in his tiny capsule of linen, Louis and sugary guts.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>Hell, <em>yeah</em>.</p><p><em>‘how cute haha x’</em> says the first text, followed by: ‘<em>you’re not wrong though!’</em></p><p>Cute.</p><p>
  <em>Cute??</em>
</p><p>Harry’s cheeks involuntarily stain crimson, his teeth edging out to chew on his lips, everything feeling bright and speckled in fluorescent colors.</p><p>Is that what Louis is actually like though? Shaded in fluorescent and pretty colors? Harry thinks so. He definitely resembles a nice vivid shade of a pretty pink or light blue or…. Something else. Something pretty. </p><p>So he decides to take it a step forward. With cold hands and warm insides, he just takes it. </p><p>
  <em>'how old are you Louis? and do we only have to talk about fruit and like, the weather? Ha :D' </em>
</p><p>The response is surprisingly very quick, promoting Harry to jolt as the phone buzzes. </p><p><em>'im 19! not as old as your everyday agriculturist i guess haha'</em> which is followed by, <em>'wby??'</em> and then another one, <em>'and not at all.. .Harry? is that it?? your name? correct me if I'm wrong pls :P xx' </em></p><p>Oh… wow. </p><p>Harry exhales, rib cage rattling underneath a burning chest as he shifts. This is fun, this is fucking <em>great</em>. He adores all the attention he's receiving like this and hell yeah, Louis can be high and mighty and over smart and fuck all else- he's still damn good at capturing Harry's attention any ways. </p><p>Louis is definitely fluorescent shades of hue. </p><p><em>'im 18 haa you're not old at all. ur more like a fruit enthusiast maybe?! not agriculturist oops'</em> Harry's grin practically splatters across his milky cheeks as he types: 'i <em>am Harry, yes! my username is my name, it's simpler i feel. like, not too much to read and yknow...' </em></p><p>He doesn't bother reading the texts himself and sends it, patiently waiting for a reply from his little fluorescent boy. Is he even little though? Harry doesn't even have a <em>face </em>to pintheir rather meaningless conversations to. But<em>…</em>. At least Louis's not all grey and wrinkled and he's oddly cute and is pretty fucking great at warming up Harry’s otherwise bored, hazy brain- so he's happy with it. Yeah. </p><p>Buzz. </p><p>Harry nearly leaps. </p><p><em>'fruit enthusiast!? mhmm I actually like that Harry!</em>' followed by another text bubble right after: <em>'and i sorta agree, simpler stuff takes off the need for too much effort. is that how you like things to be? i like easy.'</em></p><p>Ah. </p><p>Harry…. Well, he <em>loves </em>easy. </p><p>Slowly, he starts typing, forcing his brain to cooperate with him and frame proper, meaningful sentences that simply <em>have </em>to overshadow the absolute, colossal mess that are his thoughts. It’s a barrage; a clumpy, hazy clutter in his mind. Too many words, too many opinions, far too much to string into coherent sentences. He tries, nevertheless.</p><p>‘<em>The thing is...’m not great at explaining my thoughts, its a bit too much to say out loud so like, i do prefer easy, Louis, yeah i do. I really like things to be simple and like.. I just sorta hate overthinking? does that make sense? cuz i really do, it makes me miserable sometimes when i can’t come to a conclusion or i have too much to say, too many thoughts and stuff, like. i just hate anything that is too much. i like easy, Louis, yeah.’</em></p><p>And then Harry purses his lips and sends another message: ‘<em>m sorry if reading that gave you a headache ha’</em></p><p>There.</p><p>The response isn’t immediate this time.</p><p>Like, at all. Louis doesn’t respond for a full <em>five </em>minutes, prompting everything in Harry’s surroundings to dwindle down to blurry static which gradually steeples over to full blown panic. Naturally.</p><p>Was he being too transparent? Too like, straightforward?? That won’t even be fair to him though because Harry <em>is </em>a lot like clear film in many ways, like transparent sheets of plastic or something. He just never tries too hard to come across a certain way, alright? He’d rather be a little awkward with drizzles of bubbling self consciousness on the surface, than put on a facade and make himself look too energetic or too cool or anything that is normally the people pleaser. The usual <em>norm </em>when it comes to being social.</p><p>And now… It’s been <em>five </em>minutes since Louis hasn’t answered.</p><p>So Harry rolls off the bed in a bundle of jittery limbs and loose fabric hanging off his lean body as he paces, feet sinking into the plush persian carpet laid out on the floor, the sleek modern design of the interiors surrounding him in a cool embrace. His room is probably his favourite part of the entire resplendent mansion, sprawling across green acres for which a hefty amount of rent is paid every month. Just thinking about it makes Harry shudder a bit. The scale of everything his father deals with and everything his life is lauded with is just too humongous, it’s not really plausible to properly sit back and think about. So...he doesn’t.</p><p>And then the phone buzzes on the bed, tucked under the sheets and Harry nearly shoots off his feet towards the dimly aglow ceiling in an attempt to scramble forwards, crawling up the duvet and clicking the phone on. White light dips into the lines of his face as he reads the replies and the first hints of a coy smile break through, lips glinting until he’s smiling wider than he has for a long, long time. </p><p>***</p><p>It’s sort of like riding on a gentle wave, Harry feels.</p><p>Because things pick up pace a lot faster after that, everything else clamouring around him in reduced static and a blurred mess that is life and reality and whatever other inconsequential bullshit he finds himself surrounded with (which is a lot sometimes). </p><p>Louis doesn’t stop texting him. And neither does he show the mildest signs of disinterest or boredom for a whole week after.</p><p>So. Naturally, Harry is on a fucking <em>high</em>.</p><p>The first few smooth, tinkling bells ringing in the chances of <em>more </em>between them had started resonating for the first time after Harry received the reply to his messy, self conscious text; the gentle, giddy tones of excitement beginning to pick up pace within the confines of his cool room that morning. With summer all fiery and wisping away underneath the smoldering sun outside his little dome of text bubbles, linen and Louis. It’s sort of always like that now.</p><p>That text though, that one text was what struck the first tune to Harry's bells.</p><p>
  <em>‘you do make sense Harry, im sorry if you were ever made to feel awkward or self conscious for saying too much or even feeling too much. its never fair for one to feel wrong for everything that goes on inside them. easy is the less narrow path in a way tbqh?  i like that you feel the way you do. its okay to feel overwhelmed. you feel so much because you ARE so much :’)’</em>
</p><p>There. Harry had felt the drips of his aching heart splatter on his feet then. In the most dramatic, shitty, pretentiously poetic way possible because Harry actually <em>felt </em>the touch of red, peach, pink and every other pastel, soft hue color him in an erratic mess of happiness. </p><p>And as if that wasn’t enough, Louis followed it up with a:<em> ‘whyyyy would i get a headache!? im sat on my bed watching cheap movies and listening to crap music and watering fake flowers all day cuz there’s really not much I have to do during the summers. i probably should consider becoming an agriculturist actually hmm…’</em></p><p>Dripdripdrip. There went another stream of Harry’s swollen heart splutter.</p><p>Louis is fucking <em>incredible</em>.</p><p>He somehow never sounds too over the top or obnoxious or even plainly like a jerk no matter how much of random, considerably meaningless pieces of information he spews all over in the form of Harry’s beloved text bubbles. He likes pasta only in pink sauce and hates cats and holds the rather staggering ability to go on endlessly about his hatred for black coffee, text bubble after text bubble being spewed right into Harry’s charmed, incandescent face every single day. </p><p>It just starts off, naturally and comfortably in a dome of comfort and good natured conversations. Louis doesn’t listen to any of Harry’s favourite bands like Arctic Monkeys or classics like Fleetwood Mac or Queen and instead went on to explain the <em>‘need for simplicity and taking off the stress of being too quirky or organic’</em> when it comes to expanding horizons. He also tried very frustratingly hard (Harry must admit, yes. He can be a pain in the arse) to emphasis the importance of<em> ‘enjoying whatever is in hand without being afraid of it being cliche or cheesy’</em> and had used himself as an example, shoving Harry’s throat with petals and glitter as he unabashedly ranted about how much he enjoys Katy Perry and Michael Jackson and Miley Cyrus despite their popularity.</p><p>So it’s Louis telling Harry that he doesn’t like doing much apart from music and sports and how much he adores food of all varieties and stuffed with the hottest spices. It’s Louis telling Harry about how boring his day was and Harry responding with a bunch of random emojis just to elicit a response and go on to explain ‘his attempt at sparking non boredom’. It’s Harry further recommending all his favorite bands and tv shows (which Louis surprisingly isn’t really into) and complaining for long hours about the weather and how frustratingly sad it makes him to <em>‘see the world dying in flames outside</em>’. It’s Louis promptly sending back a flurry of fire emojis and delightfully replying with a ‘<em>sort of like watching a summery scene behind our windows hm? ;)’ </em></p><p>And Harry can only take so much flirtation. Anything more than that? Consider him blown away. Swept away in tendrils of unyielding charm and banter.</p><p>It’s all so...random, almost but Louis has that constant underlying spark of passion for whatever he says, tumbling out sentence after sentence full of spelling mistakes, jumbled words and improper grammar but hey- Harry <em>revels </em>in whatever he gets. He loves the attention, the sincerity, the excitement, the feel of the hot phone screen on his palms as he types and types and types, response after response, text bubble after text bubble.</p><p>Louis is witty that way, oddly charming and basically pretty fucking amazing at keeping Harry’s mornings, afternoons and long, cool nights under thick duvets busy as clumps and clumps of information is bestowed upon him, one after the other.</p><p>It is sort of weird sometimes because well, Harry doesn’t know any details obviously and even though it’s almost like two souls connecting over <em>Snapchat </em>of all places; it still gets sort of overwhelming to just....not know what Louis looks like or where he lives or studies (Harry isn’t fully sure if he’s even in the same city which is pretty fucking insane) or like, if he remembers who Zayn is. </p><p>They just talk about their day which mostly for Harry has come to consist of long jogs in the mornings right before the sun fully rises, all until he’s sweaty and disgusting and has no choice but to shower thoroughly and have a nice breakfast right after, bedecked in rich ingredients and whatever else the house maid dishes out on a daily basis. After that it’s hours and hours cut into intervals all through the blazing heat simmering through the air as Harry pours in bits and pieces of himself over the text messages, relishing the hum and buzz every single time he gets a response. </p><p>It’s even in the parking lot when Niall and him drive to Liam’s championship in thin t shirts, bandanas tied over sweaty foreheads and freshly showered hair, it’s <em>while </em>watching Liam take off on a fine stallion from the stands as Harry sneaks out his phone under the sun, reads and replies because he <em>can’t </em>stop himself. It’s reading all of Louis’ texts giving an impressive commentary over the lack of football matches this season and his many (generally extreme) views on every single team there is while Harry sits behind froyo counters in the air conditioning, surrounded by his mates. His mates who… are still oblivious to everything (at least the things that really matter to Harry) going on.</p><p>That is sort of a problem, but Harry isn’t sure how pleased they’d be if he told them.</p><p>And, so, it is riding on a wave. </p><p>There is grey and electric, stormy waters a little further away from where Harry is simply dancing along to the jovial, enthralling tune that is LouisLouisLouis. It’s there and Harry doesn’t care because for once there is something to really look forward to, there is the bluer, calmer currents of his wave to smoothly sail on while the angrier, more morose, a little sadder and lost parts can fizzle by themselves, in the far, far distance. Away from Harry’s very own fluorescent boy. </p><p>***</p><p>It’s Saturday night when the first few hints of adrenalin and booze get pumped into Harry’s veins.</p><p>It’s been a while and everything had been too fuzzy and filled with blistering heat and morning sun and popsicle after popsicle, all with constant drenched fabrics sticking to clammy skin- for so painfully <em>long</em>. It’s a breath of fresh air which isn’t really fresh considering all the alcohol and heated breaths that stains it.</p><p>“Thanks for waiting, lads!” Liam greets, hair neatly done with a neat shirt pulling across his firm chest as he makes his way to Niall and Harry’s partially inebriated figures slumped to the further end of the booths. Zayn is right behind him, eye’s flicking across the chaos and mess of people stuffing the air with mild sweat and pungent liquor, his own gaze cutting deeply through the throngs of masses.</p><p>Harry isn’t fully drunk yet but everything feels a bit too much, nevertheless.</p><p><em>‘You feel so much, because you ARE so much.’</em> Louis had said that day, heh. Such a beautiful fucking thing to say, all lathered in everything optimistic and bright that Harry sometimes wishes he could properly feel within himself. No wonder Louis is this vivid fluorescent shade, his words always lighting up all the duller hues to Harry’s soul.</p><p>“We never waited! We’ve been here for what- 2 hours, already?? Right, Harry?” Niall yells over all the noise, his throaty voice accompanying the steady beat at the back of Harry’s throat. So Harry nods, pushing back a clump of curls hanging loosely on his forehead, smelling sweet with hints of tequila and some… orange juice? Niall had fed him some liquid a while back and done a neat fucking job at hobbling and splattering it all over his thin white t shirt before promptly barking right into his face.</p><p>“No, no, i meant like, thanks for waiting till the championship ended.” Liam flashes one of his many good natured smiles, reaching over to clap Niall over the shoulder as he slides into a seat. “It’s been long overdue.”</p><p>“Oh yeah! Harry’s been stuck home alllll day. One can only pleasure themselves so much." Niall laughs over a french fry as Harry promptly whacks him, watching him tug lower on his seat and chew between bouts of slurred salivating. He’s definitely drunk and Harry’s not keen. “And y’all fuckers didn’t win anyways.” he points towards Liam and Zayn's amused faces.</p><p>“Heyyy.” Harry grumbles, gently nudging Niall in disapproval. He isn’t too sure if there’s music in the background or everything just feels too distant. “Don't say that, he did really well.”</p><p>“Aw, thanks Harry!” Liam barks out a sincere laugh, extending a hand to ruffle Harry’s sweaty curls before settling back in, “Coming to the matches did help y’all battle the heat though. Builds up resistance.” he laughs. </p><p>“Fuck off.” Zayn squawks, his voice jarringly close by and right- yeah. He’s <em>just </em>beside Harry, smelling of thick cologne and smoke. His hair looks delicious. “All to make your little profile nice and pretty cuz uni isn’t far away eh.”</p><p>“You don’t have to bring that up now!” Niall half yells immediately and yes, thank fuck for him. Thank fuck for how obnoxious and drunk he looks, gilded in club lights and a murky shade of shadows. Harry only wants <em>him</em> to talk. “Not now! Now we find people to cozy with and eat and drink and throw up. Not fucking university.”</p><p>“What’s with all the crankiness??” Liam barks out a surprised laugh before cocking his head to the side and leaning in to take a whiff of the blonde mess, “Oh wow- wow, you’re drunk. Nialler, you’re <em>drunk</em>.”</p><p>“We still don’t have to talk about uni.” Harry suddenly finds himself replying. He sits up, feeling his entire system churn. There are three curious pairs of eyes on him. “Yeah, like. It’s vacation now and we… Have time, right?”</p><p>“Easy for you to say mate.” Zayn unexpectedly says and it’s supposed to be in good humor, it’s supposed to be only gently teasing and friendly and light hearted- but Harry’s insides abruptly flood with burning kerosene, with guilt and heavy sadness. Because he knows that translates to ‘easy for you to say when you’ve got a stinking rich family and everything at your feet cuz money gets you <em>places</em>.’</p><p>Harry sort of wants to throw up.</p><p>“Yeah, man. Damn happy for you Harry! You’re gonna go places.” Liam grins, blinding and horribly aching. It’s good, he’s being good. He doesn’t mean harm, he doesn’t. Harry wants to fucking believe it. “It’s gonna be fucking brilliant!”</p><p>Yeah. Yeah, right.</p><p>So Harry doesn’t say anything, only nods through the stickiness lathering his insides and squirming through all the music pounding against his tired skull. He barely slept last night, having stayed up for hours with Louis on the other end as they’d talked and talked and talked under layers of duvet and celestial starlight pouring in through the windows and summer heats sweeping the landscape when nothing else mattered half as much as Louis’ broken words and haphazard sentences. Harry wanted to soak himself into the gleam of those words and small paragraphs because it screams of comfort and undivided attention and sincerity he just… he doesn’t quite feel the same in reality. Nothing makes him feel half as happy.</p><p>“Hey. Harry?”</p><p>“Hm?” Harry looks up, throat feeling dry and skin too pale, too wet with fragile, exhausted, sad emotions. He’s such a fucking wimp, he hates how he feels. “Yeah?”</p><p>“You okay?” Zayn’s lips are slightly parted and there’s plain concern written into the lines of his ethereally crafted face. He’s still just Zayn though. Just Zayn, who Harry had met two years back when he’d shifted schools for the millionth time in his short life, who Harry had instantly adored and warmed up to which was followed by them spending hours and hours together with a bunch of other boys, sitting on the sidelines, watching footie and lounging on couches with packs of imported wafers, books and long forgotten fifa games. Harry keeps every memory painfully close, he does love his friend and it’s… Tiring to feel so much. </p><p>“Yup!” So Harry answers, eyes trained on the clearly disbelieving face in front of him.</p><p>It’s getting claustrophobic, he has no idea why. </p><p>“You need a hug.” Niall claims out of nowhere once the silence gets painfully awkward and there- Harry inhales a lump of heady cologne, strong alcohol and bleached hair with traces of oil mingled in, all thanks to the french fries everyone apart from Harry were gleefully gorging on. </p><p>Naturally, Harry hugs back.</p><p>He doesn’t hate his mates, see. He doesn’t hate these three wonderful, supportive people in his life at all and it would be so hard to do so even if he ever tried to.</p><p>It's warm and the scents all too strong in Harry’s face as he swallows the lumps in his throat, focusing on Niall who keeps grinning drunkenly and only snuggling closer. </p><p>Fuck. He feels like a shitty friend. </p><p>These people here, they… deserve livelier company. Deserve someone without guilt trodden insides, all too quiet words and hoards of fucking <em>money </em>because they deserve company that isn’t spoilt <em>rotten.</em>They deserve better than a pale, gangly pile of Harry Styles who is always stuck in his own sleepy mind that swirls, hurts and bubbles in insecurity and so much sadness that has no remembrance of inhabiting. </p><p>Harry gently disentangles his arms, ignoring his churning insides as he gulps in fresh air and looks around with glazed eyes, at Zayn, Liam and Niall’s clearly confused faces. Terrified, almost. Like Harry is going to burst into a puddle of red, hot lava or icy, cold water anytime. There’s no in between.</p><p>“I’ll uh.. Wash my face.” He gets up, awkward and tired as fuck, ignoring the burn of all three gazes. Slowly, he walks away, through the neon lights, sweaty bodies and shadows curving at the contours, he walks through the masses and alcohol and smoke, right towards the bathroom at the far, far end. </p><p>The bathroom is empty and gleams shockingly bright with the tiles reflecting off the light casted down in thick white beams as his boots click inside. It’s welcoming in a weird, disgusting sort of way but Harry doesn’t mind; instead he walks straight towards the sink and bends down, shoulders hunched. The alcohol churns in his stomach, pulling over a wave of dizziness. </p><p>And then the most obvious idea pings.</p><p>Louis. He- He should text Louis!</p><p>It’s abrupt and sort of odd remembering his little, sparkly fluorescent boy this way in the club bathroom with a head that feels leaden and a stomach that only churns harder through the minutes. But, hey. That’s just Harry. Everything feels a little fucked up and difficult right now so he might as well do whatever suits him best. </p><p><em>‘Louis</em>.’ Harry types in, his reflection staring at him from the front. He bites his lip, gnawing on the dry skin and pressing fingertips into the phone. ‘<em>you ever sorta feel like you’re not worth attention? like, anyones attention? even your mates’? I hate how i feel.’</em></p><p>He sighs as he sends the message and leans into the sink, tucking away his phone into the dark denim skinny jeans he’d pulled on. He opens the faucet and winces as the lukewarm water hits his skin, as though bringing in warm summer with it. Nevertheless, he fills up his palms with it and splashes it onto his face, spluttering a little and squeezing his burning eyes shut. He can still smell traces of Niall’s cologne on his own t-shirt, the thin fabric stained with orange juice or flavoured soda or whatever that weird, pungent drink was. The water runs steadily and Harry rubs his face until his eyeballs burn and his skin feels soaked all the way through, more water dripping down his neck and sliding down the porcelain skin to pool underneath his neck.</p><p>And then the bathroom door bursts open.</p><p>Harry instantly jolts, standing up straight and nearly banging his head on the mirror ahead. Yeah wow, right. He might have just dozed off in the middle of washing his face. He looks up.</p><p>It’s a young boy in skinny jeans and a soft looking cream t-shirt rolled up to his elbows, all paired with a glamorous pair of blue vans. The bathroom door swings shut and every sound goes right through Harry’s pulse as he awkwardly gulps and looks away, wiping his face with his bare hands and sort of just… flicking off the water. </p><p>He doesn’t try drawing the slightest attention to himself, instead scooting further away and noticing the boy glance at him only once with a quick smile, cheekbones aglint.  He has a pretty face, a gentle stance and an attractive sort of everything and it’s <em>electric</em>, it’s like a striking whiplash when his clear, blue gaze catches Harry’s, the world around staggering in its wake.  </p><p>Harry needs to… he needs to leave. Nowhere is fucking safe, always so many eyes.</p><p>But then the boy is leaning against the sink, feet tucked and hair swept to the side in a mildly haphazard way which only just adds to the overall appeal of the smooth planes of his cheeks and rich feel that surrounds him. Harry watches him from a distance, hoping that his creepy, curious gaze doesn’t strike obvious as he tears a chunk of tissue paper and wipes his face, green eyes flicking towards the sight in front. The boy just brandishes his phone, coolly leaning forward with his tongue poking from the side of his pink lips before he starts typing away, the air slowing down to gentle tinkles and electricity kissing the molecules in between. They’re still in the <em>bathroom</em>, yes.</p><p>Harry half considers sliding into a stall and climbing right out of one of the windows to plonk headfirst into hot concrete under the stars. Right into the streets.</p><p>Because he can’t find himself capable of even <em>moving </em>with a presence that strong and jarring standing right there, calmly typing away with fluid movements and a gentle stance. Harry can’t fucking move. He’s trapped, eh.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>Oh. Oh well.</p><p>The boy’s head snaps towards Harry before he even registers the sound fully, pulling the thick tissue from his moist face and blinking away the water droplets. He feels the gaze on him, unwavering and blazing as Harry gulps and doesn’t gauge the exact emotion embedded there, instead pulling out his phone and squinting into the white glow of his screen. He’s gonna go fucking blind at this rate, everything’s burning.</p><p><em>‘oh Harry :(‘ </em>says the first text, followed with:<em> ‘first off, i’d like to have a long, long, detailed conversation (totally no violence ;) ) with whoever made you feel this way because you’re fucking AMAZING in every way Harry! i know people are shitty and things hurt but like...just. why would you even feel that way? who made you feel like that? im so sorry. you feeling so much is the best part of you.’</em></p><p>Oh, Louis. Harry almost melts right into the tiles underneath.</p><p>He’s smiling hard and his cheeks are blazing crimson and yeah uh, well. The boy is still at the sink, still <em>watching </em>with an expression Harry still hasn’t looked up to discern yet. His mere presence is bold and electrifying enough. </p><p>So Harry makes small, painful attempts to hide the huge, stupid grin lathering his face as he slowly types back, fingers jittery and the boy’s gaze still burning away on his moist skin.</p><p><em>‘oh Louis, you say the nicest… most comforting things y’know.’ </em>He hits send.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p>It’s… not from his phone.</p><p>Harry frowns, eyebrows scrunching and creases forming as he fully looks up this time, looks up at the pretty boy who doesn’t bother even trying not to make his stare obvious. Pretty boy has an even prettier smile and a small, boopable nose with wrinkles forming near his bright, blue eyes as he stares at Harry fully, phone clasped in one hand and lips gently parting. Something terrifyingly akin to recognition flickers to life behind his irises.</p><p>He...How…?</p><p>If the air was electrifying earlier, now Harry feels like a megatonn watt engine, the air firing up and distant engines revving up in quiet astonishment- right before he catches sight of the tattoo. The tattoo on his right arm. The rope. </p><p>On Louis’ right arm.</p><p>Harry’s feet move before he realises, paper napkin crumbling and falling away as he walks through the bright glow of the white bathroom, heels clicking on the tiles and curls catching traces of water droplets. He watches Louis’ face transform, literally fizzle and burn to life as it transitions from confusion to astonishment to bold, electrifying, <em>terrifying </em>shades of sheer glee. He looks so fucking <em>happy </em>in the purest, richest shades of color and crinkles and pink lips and Harry is dying.</p><p>So he flees.</p><p>He doesn’t lock eyes, doesn’t smile, doesn’t provide the slightest reaction or let Louis even take him in completely with all that beauty entrapped in a singular gaze. Instead, he feels the smile drop and crash to the floor, feels the electricity between them fizzle out once he’s out of the bathroom and back into the pub, dazed and breathless as his whole world swirls.</p><p>***</p><p>“Tell me, Zayn- <em>Zayn</em>?” Harry creeps closer into the darkness of their box, holding Zayn’s confused figure in front, attempting to cover himself. “Is that Louis?”</p><p>“You said you saw his <em>tattoo</em>?” Zayn half stutters, a little dazed, slowly lifting off the seat to eye the smaller figure making its way out of the bathroom, “Harry, of course it’s going to be him then.”</p><p>“For sure??” Harry half squawks, highly aware of Liam and Niall holding in their loud sniggers with palms clasped over their mouths and staring with wide eyes. It’s warm and dark, everyone’s getting drunker and Harry can’t breathe.</p><p>“Yeah, i think-”</p><p>“THERE HE IS! He’s a little more visible now- Is that him?” Harry bursts as he watches Louis’ head bop out of the throngs of people scattered all over the dancefloor, music pounding through the electric air. He looks… confused. Sad, sort of.</p><p>Harry’s heart sinks.</p><p>“Yeah, that.. That’s him Harry.” Zayn whispers, voice terrifyingly low. He smells of hard vodka and his hair is dark and glints under the light, slender body shadowing Harry’s quivering figure. Harry who doesn’t remember how to feel all of a sudden.</p><p>“What’s happening Haz? What’s going on?” Niall tries, reaching to place a concerned hand over Harry’s shoulder and he- he flinches in response. He feels the jolt all the way down to his toes and he pushes himself away, edging out of the booth, away from his mates and back onto the floor of the pub that only pounds and pounds and pounds.</p><p>Harry just… He is scared. Petrified. Uncertain. </p><p>He needs time. </p><p>So he starts making his way through the pub, determined eyes firmly on the exit, boots clicking and every sound resonating against his jittery pulse. He doesn’t bother searching for where Louis wandered after walking out of the bathroom with a broken face that is more than enough to hammer Harry’s fears even further. He can talk to him later, can make amends, can text him again tonight with an inebriated soul and warm heart, but he can still do it. It doesn’t necessarily have to be all miserable. It’s Louis after all, he can talk to him- <em>has </em>talked to him for long enough now. He can, yes, he fucking can.</p><p>The summer air wafts right up to him as the club door swings open, the warm scent of humid leaves and sweat drifting through the sudden silence of the night. It’s calming, a little more grounding once the pounding of music subsides, sucked away into the chaos behind him. His feet feel firmer on the ground, boots digging into semi moist soil as he starts walking towards the pavement, where further away, parked neatly under a tree within a large parking lot- is his Mercedes SLC. His luxurious, leather seated car, bought for his 18th birthday. His current ride home, too. </p><p>He doesn’t make it too far though. </p><p>It’s moist air licking the back of Harry’s neck, it’s sweat trickling through the mop of hair sweeping across his forehead, it’s quiet and calm and it’s leaves rustling somewhere in the background, tires screeching loudly far into the distance; and it’s a single hopeful voice calling out from behind.</p><p>“Harry.”</p><p>It’s Louis calling out for Harry.</p><p>“Louis.” Harry sighs, long and exasperated, because this is it. He has to turn around and stop being an asshole about everything all the damn time. </p><p>“Did I like, come across uglier than you’d hoped?” The smooth, playfully raspy voice reaches the stretch between them, Louis punctuating it with a laugh that shatters the summer heat.</p><p>“You-” Harry feels the immediate tug at his lips, inhaling dew and flora. He turns around, eyes wide and mouth turning upwards, “-you’re actually prettier than I’d like.. Imagined. So. I don’t really know what to do now.” He laughs fully, self conscious hands finding the pockets of his jeans.</p><p>Louis just stands there, just stands like an absolute fucking king under the night sky with the stars above that inhale a sharp breath and sigh in response to the way his body glows brighter than they could ever dare to. He doesn’t stand too tall but he has a massive presence nevertheless, smiling unabashedly with twinkling eyes and hands in his own pockets, warm air tugging at the chops of scruffy hair that suits him <em>so </em>painfully well. Harry sort of feels inconsequential amidst all of it. The summer is sighing.</p><p>“Funny you say that.” Louis grins and the cosmos erupts, dainty legs moving through the electric air and he’s <em>walking- </em>right. Right, yes. He walks right up to Harry, quirking his head to the side, a mischievous smile pulling at his thin lips, “When you’re gorgeous yourself actually!” he proclaims, like it’s common fucking knowledge and Harry can’t stop staring.</p><p>“Uh, no. But like… Wow.” Harry breathes out a laugh, loosening up his body and letting a smile tug at his lips. “<em>Wow</em>, this really is you.”</p><p>“Oh, it absolutely is. A whole human being behind the screen.” Louis sing-songs. He smells of tiny traces of alcohol, blue eyes mildly dilated and still glowing. “You’re whole too. Didn’t expect to just see you out of the blue though, you nearly gave me a heart attack there, could’ve fallen into the sink or summat.” He laughs. <em>Again</em>.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Harry blurts out, coughing on words and self conscious energy, “I just.. Was sort of confused i guess. I shouldn’t have walked away like that.”</p><p>Louis frowns, the ethereal glow barely diminishing. His entire body turns towards Harry, every gaze is focused and clear. ”Hey, no, don’t be sorry though! It’s alright, i’m glad our first…<em>.proper </em>conversation wasn’t in the bathroom, and instead out here-” he looks up, chin jutting and eyes on the stars above, “-amongst whatever the heavens have to offer.” his eyes drop down, nose scrunching before he laughs, “the heat too.”</p><p>“It’s terrible.” Harry agrees, swaying and breathing and revelling because Louis doesn’t feel real. “I’m all sweaty and stuff.”</p><p>“Is that a soda stain on your t-shirt?”</p><p>What.</p><p>“Oh, that’s.. Orange juice. I think. I'm not sure.” Harry exhales, stuttering out a nervous laugh. He thumbs the paled fabric, feeling Louis’ eyes bore in. “I think I'm drunker than I realise, to be honest.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Louis is close. Closer than he was seconds ago. He smells fresh and strong, heady with hints of cologne. A strong spice sprinkled over all of it. And he’s drunk too, his pupils dilating and Harry’s entire world is spinning in staggering movements.</p><p>“Yeahhh and you’re not an agriculturist.” Harry replies.</p><p>Shit.</p><p>“I’m not!?” Louis squawks out a laugh that surprises himself, “Am i really not?”</p><p>“No.” Harry grins, “You just really like your backyard, don’t you?”</p><p>“I do.” Louis hums, jaded in blue, beautiful and content. His eyes don’t leave Harry.</p><p>They stay quiet for a bit, every molecule near Harry’s skin firing away in little bursts that spark all through his bloodstream. Louis’ just watching him with a gaze so calm and content and yet Harry’s heart won’t stop hammering, the air won’t stop buzzing excitedly.</p><p>“Did you come here by yourself, Harry?”</p><p>Louis’ gentle gaze clouds a bit as he says so, the bold, confident energy that’s perpetually embedded there slowly melts into something quieter. More concerned. </p><p>“No.” Harry quips, shuffling slightly and biting his lip. He eyes the pub behind them, highly aware of how strange and nervous he must look, jaded in moonlight and Louis’ stare. “I uh, came with my mates. Liam, Zayn and Niall; i think i told you about them.”</p><p>“Oh! Yeah, yes, you did. I do remember.” Louis nods, a million dollar smile once again etching his lips in glitter and mirth. “The horse riding match? One of them was participating and you were complaining about the heat for a long, long time since it was held outdoors.” He grins.</p><p>Right. So.</p><p>Yeah, there’s that. Not one of Harry’s proudest moments per say, heh. He had been grumbly and irritated that day, constantly dabbing away the sweat and pushing down gallons of water till he was running off for pee breaks every thirty minutes. And texting Louis in the stands, under the sun with cheering crowds all around and massive horses racing off right in front had ended up edging him towards the cusp of insanity.</p><p>And Louis <em>remembers </em>Harry ranting away that day.</p><p>“That wasn’t... Well, I didn't know I'd bump right into you just a few days later.” Harry lets himself emit a low laugh, reaching for his hair and brushing away the locks. “But here we are.”</p><p> </p><p>Louis’ smile falters.</p><p>“Why.... It’s not embarrassing, though.” Louis frowns and it doesn’t fucking <em>suit </em>him. He keeps talking, gaze still fixated through the creases on his pretty face, “I didn’t- <em>don’t </em>mind hearing any of it, Harry. Seeing each other in person shouldn’t make anything weird. So just, like, please don’t regret anything we talked about.”</p><p>It almost sounds like he’s pleading a little. Harry doesn’t know how to comprehend that.</p><p>But he does know that Louis is fucking gorgeous in reality and the night is stunning and they have time, he doesn’t have to mess this up. He has time and he has Louis for now.</p><p>“Can we walk a bit?” Harry sighs, pulling away from the capsule of heat that had entrapped both their bodies. He hears the music pounding away in the distance, dry leaves and humid air hurtling through. He himself smells sweaty and the alcohol is only making him slightly tipsy, the world is still burning around the edges. He feels quite alive.</p><p>“Of course.” Louis replies, Vans scratching on dry pavement. His eyes flicker, “But don’t you have to go back to your mates, or have you already told them-”</p><p>“No, no. Louis.” Harry shakes his head, a little exhausted. His body feels worn out but his senses are still pushing. “They’re alright, they’ll probably just have some drinks and forget about everything else…. which is sort of the point of going out.” He laughs, a hollow sound that withers away. “Don’t worry about them, I’ll text them if i have to. They’ll be just fine.”</p><p>Louis’ gaze edges dangerously close to curious and concerned again, the uncertainty remaining only slightly intact before he finally gives in. It’s like he’s trying to decipher Harry through the drunken haze and confusion while keeping the whole enigmatic, perpetually electric spirit intact. Or Harry’s just inebriated to a point of incoherency.</p><p>“Alright.” Louis perks up, kicking away at nothing in specific and walking forward, “I came with a whole group of friends from university myself, and you know how that works. Large groups means everyone is quicker to like, drift away to do their own thing. Your text gave me an incentive to get me out of there actually, it’s pretty fucking claustrophobic amongst hairy skins drenched in axe sprays and sweaty football players.”</p><p>Harry barks out a laugh, tweaking an amused eyebrow and nearly burping with the sudden effect of all of it. He turns to look at Louis, his own boots scraping on the warm concrete as silence fills in. “You hang out with axe drenched football players?” He asks incredulously.</p><p>“Well sort of, I didn't tell you about them, did i? Like, on text?” Louis laughs mostly to himself, low and raspy, eyes crinkling. He’s so bright under the stars. “There’s not much to say about them. Just your typical group of rugged guys with their partners and beers and jerseys and fuck all i care about.” He stretches <em>while </em>walking which <em>should </em>look stupid or awkward but somehow only looks incredibly alluring. “It’s not just axe sprayed footballers by the way, there are divisions you know. Like certain groups only play football, others are massive, hairy fucking show offs. But you know what stays constant? That rotten fucking deodorant- which should really be strong enough to strip off all that openly flaunted hair from their gnome shaped bodies. Funny how that doesn’t work.”</p><p>Harry’s jaw drops open. Nearly to the scratchy, greasy pavement if you may.</p><p>That’s... wow.</p><p>See, the thing is, he does know Louis talks a lot. Like, he <em>knows </em>Louis has a wonderful soul full of witty humor and chilled out choices in music and a deep, ‘soul connection’ sort of love for sports; Harry does know all of it. All the back and forth texting over days on end, warm, hot, blistering, mildly cool, heat wave; no matter what sort of mood the weather was in, they had talked through all of it.</p><p>But what he didn’t realise was Louis essentially being a blue eyed pixie completely ridden of any reigns. There’s no extreme barriers or overly careful limits while talking. He just <em>talks </em>and he does so with a twinkle in his eye, with an unabashed shade of mirth in his gaze and a confident spruce. He isn’t fucking real.</p><p>“And you think you’re quirkier because you don’t use Axe unlike your <em>gnome shaped </em>friends?” Harry kicks away at a stray, crackling leaf, turning to see Louis’ delicate mouth turn upwards. </p><p>“Well.” He considers it, shrugging a bit and being a complete diva about it. “I think i’m quirkier anyways.” He punctates it with a grand smile of his own.</p><p>“Oh, i’m sure you are.” Harry hums quietly, looking down at his boots as he sighs, drips of exhaustion seeping out. Louis is staring again.</p><p>He’s definitely quite the character.</p><p>“So, where are we uh, going?” Harry asks, breathing through the heat clogging his senses. The roads stay silent, save for an occasional vehicle flashing headlights in strong beams across the dark, streetlamp lined pavements. It feels good though, the calm atmosphere feels welcoming. Harry is so, so tired.</p><p>“I don’t know, <em>do </em>we have to go somewhere specific?” Louis shrugs, picking at the cream sweater rolled at his elbows.</p><p>“I’m not sure if you mean that in some dramatic, poetic way-” Harry hums out a small laugh, “-But we can like, sit somewhere? I’m a little tired.” He quietly admits.</p><p>Louis just watches for a few seconds, slightly curious with thin lips perpetually carved into a small smile. “Sure, Harry. I’ve got one of my mates’ SUV parked in the parking lot. We can sit there if you’d like.”</p><p>Oh. Oh right.</p><p>“Or, I’ve got my own car there, let’s just... Hang around. Get to the parking lot first. ’m exhausted.” Harry mumbles, a little pathetically. Nevertheless, he does keep walking, refusing to look at Louis who is <em>definitely </em>watching him with that small, curious twinkle in his eye. </p><p>The parking lot opens out towards the right side of the road, tall floodlights surmounted high around every corner of the massive concretised area filled with vehicles. The nightsky arches high up, surrounding it and making it fucking glow in a strange, mysterious way.</p><p>And there’s Harry’s Mercedez.</p><p>A bright, neon yellow burst in the middle of the sea of dark, bulky SUVs and Hondas.</p><p>Louis, though, doesn’t seem even slightly fazed as Harry guides him to his car, feeling a little self conscious himself and.. Well, he should feel proud. Or find it worthy of boasting or whatever. But, he just. Just finds it to be strangely attention seeking; like the Mercedez is just <em>begging </em>to be seen. It’s unnerving.</p><p>“It’s a nice model.” Louis comments, voice smooth and indifferent. He skims a finger on the backside, before swinging around and offering a full twirl, “Well, hello. Lookie here, a sexy sportscar from afar, your ride from the bar, owned by the very curly Har!”</p><p>Harry blinks. </p><p>“<em>Har</em>?”</p><p>“Eh, that’s not your nickname, is it?” Louis fumbles, a goofy smile playing on his lips. He thinks he’s so fucking charming. So clever. “I knew it the moment i said it!” He laughs, slapping a dramatic palm over his shiny forehead. </p><p>Harry smiles.</p><p>“Well, i’m glad you find it sexy.” Harry shrugs, smoothly hoisting himself on the low, warm roof of the car. “Niall loves it too.”</p><p>“Do <em>you </em>not?” Louis’ frowns from below, hands crossed but gaze bright as ever. “And uh- it’s okay if we sit on top, huh?”</p><p>“It’s a <em>sportscar </em>Louis.” Harry swings his long leg up, entire body now atop the car. “Fucking unbreakable, these menaces.”</p><p>“<em>Menaces</em>?” Louis squawks out, feigning mock hurt as he slowly, tentatively raises himself up too. “They’re not- <em>whoa</em>!”</p><p>“You’re okay.” Harry laughs amusedly, reaching to grip Louis’ arm and gently pulling him up, beside him. Louis won’t stop huffing and staring back down, eyes wide and sort of in disbelief.</p><p>“And no, I don't actually.”
</p><p>“What?” Blue dilated eyes come in view.</p><p>“I don’t fancy uh, cars and stuff.” Harry hums and- shit. He sounds pathetic. He just sounds plain dumb doesn’t he? The spoilt fucking brat he is. Getting a <em>sports car</em> for his 18th birthday, like goddamn, he is quite the richie rich in many ways. It’s obnoxious and disgusting, is what it is.</p><p>Louis’ body looks calmer and more sated, hands behind and keeping him in an upright position as the lit up parking lot stretches out in front of them, multiple cars and bikes parked in rows on either side. The sky arches above all of it, dazzling bright and invigorating every air particle in summer scents- alongside Louis’ mild body heat. With some cologne too? Probably.</p><p>“You.. don’t like cars and stuff?” Louis slowly asks, emphasising each word as though he himself was trying to understand it. “Like, i did figure out you weren’t into racing or motorcycles and all of that typical, i don’t know, wacky shit? But, your <em>own </em>car? This sexy one?”</p><p>Ugh. </p><p>Harry contemplates directly changing the conversation and blaming his exhaustion levels to sidetrack completely, but he has already done enough damage with the whole walking out of the club bathroom and fleeing to the street thing. It’s tedious and he doesn’t <em>like </em>this topic, alright?</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah, no. Sorry um.” Harry snaps out of the momentary trance, the floodlights coming into view all around Louis’ scrunched, concerned face. “I just, don’t like it? Nothing much to explain, actually.”</p><p>“Right…” Louis nods, clearly confused. “So you’re like a proper nice, refreshing cherub.” He quips.</p><p>Harry can’t help but give into the pleased smile itching at his lips. Well, that’s just sweet, isn’t it? It isn’t every day a pretty, fluorescent jaded pixie he met over Snapchat calls him a ‘refreshing’ cherub.</p><p>So he just lets himself revel in the mild warmth pooling through his senses and the sticky sweat slick on his neck as he slowly slides on to his back, curling his legs slightly and opening his eyes to the stars speckling the night sky above. It’s been a long, long day and it isn’t even over yet.</p><p>***</p><p>“So are we just, like, not going to talk about it?”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>“About you thinking you’re not worthy of attention? That text?”</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>Harry’s eyes snap open.</p><p>“Oh Louis.” Harry sighs. Louis’ gaze is warm and curious beside him, the small car making them compact. “I don’t know. It’s just-” He flails his arms ridiculously, attempting to explain, “I am a little boring, i feel? It’s like this… glass thing you know. This thing you’re stuck inside sometimes. Everything feels a little hazy, distant, like. No real sense of direction or a reason to enjoy something. I just feel….Misty?”</p><p>“Sort of lost?” Louis provides, blinking softly. His hand is propped up to support his head, both eyes watching Harry’s horizontal figure.</p><p>“Yeah.” Harry admits, “Kind of sad. Pathetic, maybe.”</p><p>“Is it because you don’t feel the electricity in your bones?” Louis smiles, reaching out a brave hand to gently poke Harry’s arm. Teasing. “Don’t feel the thrum , the buzz?”</p><p>“I feel like thick glue, actually.” Harry sniffles, relishing Louis’ pleasant laugh. “Feel like spoilt, thick fucking glue.”</p><p>“Plastered? All over… inside.” Louis hums, something quieter pulling at his movements. “I think i know what you mean.”</p><p>Does he now? <em>Louis </em>knows what feeling like thick glue is like? </p><p>“Yeah, because.. It’s a shitty feeling. Just sitting amongst your mates and feeling constantly detached. Sort of slower than the rest.” Harry keeps talking because it’s calming. Louis lets him speak. Lets him blink his sleepy eyes and dab trickles of sweat and keep gazing. Above and beyond.</p><p>“So many thoughts, right?” Louis whispers and there’s a tiny hint of allure there. His voice has lowered now, something deeper sweeping in as he skims a warm finger across Harry’s temple, “So much to say, so much to feel. Yet these-” he barely presses his fingertip to Harry’s bottom lip, barely grazing the teeth underneath, “-these don’t manage to bring any of them out.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Harry’s lips move underneath Louis’ finger before it presses down for one swift second- and promptly pulls away. It’s.. flirtatious. But Harry doesn’t really see it that way, there’s something so inexplicably strong in the air, the electric feel between them threatening to electrocute him as Louis’ figure only glows brighter by each passing second. Bold, charming and painfully attractive.</p><p>“You feel so much because you <em>are </em>so much- remember when I threw that cheeser your way?” Louis softly says, voice peppered with chaste specks of affection and quiet wonder. “I think.. I think you’re fucking awesome Harry.”</p><p>“Awesome?” Harry smiles, turning to catch Louis’ soft eyes.</p><p>“Yeah! Awesome Har and his awesome car- which he doesn’t even like. Right.” Louis grins, “That’s okay though. I think you’re brilliant, who the fuck cares about anyone else?”</p><p>Riiiight. Well, ha. </p><p>The fucking <em>things </em>Louis just says so offhandedly. Like he’s the only massively, <em>charmingly </em>attractive bastard to set his firm, smooth feet on the same soil.  </p><p>“Really?” Harry keens, raising his eyebrows and licking his lips. The floodlights are all so bright. “Who the fuck cares about anyone else?” He sing songs, gaze not straying. </p><p>“No one fucking does.” Louis sings back and it’s unabashed, final and so full of feelings that whisper of certainty and neverending charm. Little fluorescent boy. Pixie in floodlights.</p><p>Harry feels a wave of calm flood his senses, stronger and more insistent than earlier. It settles to a gentle thrum, everything dwindling down and the world letting out a low sigh around him. He feels Louis also settle, his warm, sweet smelling body breathing slowly beside him. There’s definitely some cologne there, but it’s very mild. It’s nice. </p><p>“Hey Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah, Louis?” Harry hums, eyes fluttered shut.</p><p>“What now?” Louis whispers, as though it were a massive secret, reserved only for safe ears.</p><p>“What now?” Harry whispers back.</p><p>“After we drift off and a new day begins, then what?”</p><p>Hm.</p><p>“Then..” Harry slowly blinks open his heavy eyelids, turning to his side to face Louis’ smooth, gorgeous face. “Then, you tell me. What do you want?”</p><p>“Can we like, hang out? Properly?” Louis’ eyes crinkle as he says so, reaching to brush off a strand of Harry’s hair falling sideways. It isn’t obnoxiously forward or overly self confident. Instead it’s hopeful, small, <em>gentle</em>. All splattered in blue. </p><p>“A date?” Harry whispers just because he can. He feels drunker than before now, drifting through the heavy lull and Louis’ magical power over every vein in his body. All pumped in something calmly invigorating. </p><p>“Yeah? Where do you want to go?” A voice simmers through it.</p><p>“Anywhere. Away from… Earth.” Harry mumbles, eyes shutting again and head lolling to the side in heavy exhaustion. “I know you can do that.”
</p><p>“Take you away from earth?”</p><p>“Yeah. You’re you, Louis.”</p><p>“And you’re <em>you </em>Harry.” Louis’ voice seems distant, so far away. The floodlights are so bright even against his sealed eyelids, the world is in flames. Everything is softly burning apart around Louis. “We’ll figure it out. Now you can drift off cherub.”</p><p>And so, Harry does. He has to because he can’t push any longer. Louis’s beside and everything will be alright. Noone else fucking matters right? Right. </p><p>So Harry drifts. Far, far away.  </p><p>***</p><p>He briefly remembers arms and limbs and alcoholic breaths hours after. He remembers being hoisted off the roof by strong arms and the pungent smell of hard liquor staining every breath around him- and Liam. That’s who helped him down with another voice lingering somewhere near, hands tugging at his jean pockets, searching for keys, everything too hazy and cluttered- “That was fucking dangerous Harry, you don’t sleep on top of a car.”- followed by more arms and he’s being dragged.... Helped. Guided?</p><p>He does remember the blond tuft of hair perpetually bopping in front, helping him forward and… Louis? Is Louis there? No. He isn’t, no. There's no fourth voice, only murmurs and an exhausted “You can drive right?”- Zayn, yes, Followed by the blond hair once again propping him up, “Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”</p><p>“Did he pass out?”</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“No. Just, dazed, I think.” </p><p>“Yeah.” Harry remembers attempting to slur out but he’s not outside anymore. No more floodlights. Instead he’s in a car, <em>his </em>car and everything’s… flying? The streets, citylights, Niall’s soft voice beside, all blending in a mess of colors as they fly and fly and fly.</p><p>Then he remembers being escorted up till his doorstep, he remembers the scent of <em>home</em>, of those shitty candles the staff keeps around the house, of the embedded lights and cool interiors and thrum of air conditioning, nauseating him further as he gets helped upstairs, up, up, up.</p><p>And then all the body heat leaves.</p><p>There’s only silence after that. Low, breathless silence. There’s a duvet on top, yes, the air conditioning is still on and it’s dim inside but it’s… It’s almost dawn. No one around. Just, silence.</p><p>So Harry sighs and ignores the world, ignores everything else outside and instead burns away. Away in the linen covered in sweat and the long lasting feel of Louis’ fingertips on his lips.</p><p>***</p><p>Harry receives one text when he wakes up towards noon the next day. Nearly 1 pm because what else would he do? Wake up early? After falling asleep at the crack on dawn? Absolutely not. </p><p><em>‘So are we aiming for fancy here orrrr’ </em>says Louis’ text.</p><p>And.. fuck. All of it comes rushing back over breakfast/brunch.</p><p>Harry’s blush makes an appearance a lot faster than the replies to the question. He stuffs a slice of warm bread down his throat, socked feet curling and cheeks warming. The living room couch suddenly feels too huge, his entire house just <em>staring </em>at him intently as he chews and chews and chews. </p><p>‘<em>do YOU want it fancy?? ;)’ </em>Harry types out, biting at his bottom lip, fingers cold as the vents thrum nearby. </p><p>The buzz comes very quick.</p><p>
  <em>‘I don’t mind!’</em>
</p><p>Mhmm. Okay.</p><p>So, Louis clearly doesn’t want to be specific here which leaves Harry to wrack his own brains, sifting through the options and thrumming fingertips on the porcelain plate. His long forgotten toast lies there- and hey, he shouldn’t even be eating carbs. What if he gets bloated on <em>date </em>night? Can’t afford that, no.</p><p><em>‘okayy so there’s this hotel diner sorta thing not too far away</em> <em>called ‘Seven Hills’. Is that okay?’</em> Harry types and.. he’s actually skeptical about this. His father has a long history of holding multiple banquets within the plush, fancy private rooms booked in the same place and it’s ridiculously expensive- though that part is more than fine. Maybe Louis likes that? Maybe he likes fish and chips priced 50 pounds per plate, who knows.</p><p>So. Harry could be completely, disastrously wrong about this as well.</p><p>Buzz.</p><p><em>‘i just looked it up and WOW. as you wish Harry! ;)’  </em>followed by: <em>‘8 pm?</em>’</p><p>Hm.</p><p>This is a proper thing then. It’s a proper, <em>big </em>thing and Harry can’t quite feel the bottom of his stomach, all the carbs just slowly churning inside. </p><p>‘<em>yeah!! i’ll pick you up, if you’d like? you do like my car so.’  </em>Harry feels the slow warmth pool through his senses as he reads it back. Is this too flirtatious? Louis <em>does </em>like his car, so.. It should be fine, yeah.  </p><p>The text that follows agrees.</p><p>
  <em>‘I do, yes, indeed! I’ll send you my address.’</em>
</p><p>There. So, that’s done. </p><p>Harry has to pick Louis up from his <em>home </em>and drive them to a shittily, gorgeously expensive hotel for a pricey dinner which would receive a mere eyebrow raise from his father once the credit comes in. But it’s all still happening. Tonight. Bloated stomach or not.</p><p>Louis’ address pings in as Harry slides lower into his plush couch, stretching sore muscles and sifting fingers through freshly washed hair (sleeping on car roofs on summer nights might not actually be that appealing). He licks his lips and lets himself smile, reveling in the sheer ecstasy of a reality he never believed could hold something new. Something electric.</p><p>***</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”</p><p>“Nah, no. You guys go ahead.”</p><p>It’s also Saturday night, see. Which brings along with it the slight, awkward problem in the form of three best friends. And a Lewis Capaldi concert- which Harry has to skip now. </p><p>Harry feels really shitty, he feels fucking horrible doing this. <em>Lying</em>. He told Niall that he’d be home by himself, told him that he’s planning on watching movies and binging on popcorn and soda; when in reality, he’s stood right in front of his walk in closet, phone in one hand and heart in another as he sifts through every single formal attire he owns.</p><p>Because. He has a date with a boy he met properly only last night.</p><p>The interiors of the walk in closet glow in soft yellow lights, velvets and cotton fabrics all cool on Harry’s fingertips as he balances his phone, listening to Niall speak.</p><p>“You’re going to be okay? Harold?” </p><p>Mhmm.</p><p>Harry closes his eyes for a few seconds, metal warm on his cheek and the bedroom behind him spacing out for the wobbly emotions all bubbling out. “Yeah, of course i am- and thanks for last night. I swear i’d have fucking fallen off the roof.”</p><p>“Of course you bastard!” Niall squawks out and Harry practically sighs with the relief that oozes out of his skin. <em>This </em>is more like them, it feels more familiar. “Be glad i threw up all the alcohol beforehand, none of us would’ve made it home otherwise.”</p><p>“Go slow, Nialler. You have one liver, you know.” Harry smiles, eyes skimming the rows and rows of shirts, polyester jackets, ties, tuxedos and what not he’d bought over years of attending banquets and weddings and work parties with his father. The hangers feel heavy, as though mocking the sheer waste of money over every new attire purchased.</p><p>Niall’s light hearted laughs clashes with it. “Yeah mate, got one liver and one soul, eh. Liam’s getting pina coladas tonight though, might make it back sober.”</p><p>Harry hums, picking out a rich black button down shirt with red inside. The hangers rattle as he takes it off. “It’s gonna be brilliant. Just have fun, yeah?”</p><p>“You know I always do, cheeser.” Niall grins, his glorious Irish accent muffling up a few words. Always so fucking wonderful and really, Harry is so glad they met in the middle of his junior year. He’s so glad he decided to sit beside the first blonde boy he saw on that lovely spring morning fresh after summer break; during psychology class. </p><p>“I’ll catch you later, gonna just… turn on Netflix or like, something.” Harry fumbles, despising the churn in his gut (there’s no traces of any bloating though thankfully, heh). “Have fun and kiss Liam and Zayn on their foreheads from me.”</p><p>“Will do! Call if anything, kay?” Niall replies, hints of static breaking through his voice- and the line cuts just then.</p><p>Everything goes back to silent and lonely.</p><p>Harry clicks his tongue, lowering his phone and staring at the blank screen for a few long seconds. He doesn’t know if the bitter feeling on his tongue is guilt or not and it’s not even something overly dramatic, it’s not worth feeling sick over. He just... He needs to focus on Louis now. On his first proper date (which he still has no idea how he landed for himself).</p><p>So, with the constant thrum of the air vents melodically melting through the air, with a Prada shirt in one hand and Harry’s phone held in a death grip in another, he rattles out a sigh and goes to grab the perfume bottles and a pair of comfortable jeans hopefully.</p><p>***</p><p>Louis’ house is fucking adorable.</p><p>That’s really the best way to describe it. Because Harry’s eyes haven't strayed since the second he pulled up right in front.</p><p>It’s an entirely brickmade, cosy and compact bungalow amongst several other’s all arranged side by side down until 6th Avenue. It doesn’t stand out at all or beg for attention and that’s what settles a warm feeling in Harry’s chest as he stares at the main door from inside the car, eyes occasionally flickering towards the tiny ‘garden’ in front. It’s just a few tulips and dandelions laid out well amongst lush green grass sunken in well manured soil. It’s sort of scattered and the moonlight doesn’t do much to make it stand out. Harry absolutely adores it.</p><p>Louis did mention living with two other boys doing their post graduation in some local college around, and he did give hefty daily reports via text about the laundry work and frequent power cuts and erratic water supply and so on; but seeing it this way, when Harry’s here to take him out as a <em>date </em>feels… Thrilling.</p><p>Then Louis himself walks out.</p><p>It’s just about 8:03 pm as Louis hustles out of the front door, hair neatly done into a gentle fringe that sweeps right across his forehead and lets down small strands of soft hair. He looks fucking marvelous in a simple white shirt rolled up till his elbows, legs (thick thighs, those. Harry totally isn’t looking) firm and alluring in skinny jeans. He’s not in scruffy vans though, instead opting for white Oxfords that hold a more formal, neater feel to them. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not fluorescent. He’s moonlight. He’s whatever suits the current atmosphere, whatever soaks the air in electricity and breathless sighs. </p><p>And, he’s Harry’s date.</p><p>“Wow! Do I smell of Axe? Please tell me I don’t, I’ll fucking kill those bastards.” Louis’ laughs wafts through the silence as Harry opens the door for him, leaning to catch a whiff.</p><p>“No, not really. Mostly um, roses? Did you drench yourself in rose water, Louis?” Harry grins, heart hammering as he focuses on the steering wheel in his hands. On the pressure of the accelerator underneath. <em>Not </em>on Louis who is gazing at him with a bright, energetic smile, charisma glowing off the ends of the earth.</p><p>“I’m not revealing <em>those</em> secrets that fast!” Louis tucks his feet softly, limbs fitting in properly as he rests on the leather seats. The car starts moving and he appears pretty content already,  rumbling out a sigh, “But you know those flat mates i’d told you about a few times? David and Matt? They use Axe too, you know. The ordeal of searching for my own clothes amongst their <em>used </em>ones was… Terrifying.” He shudders.</p><p>“Oh.” Harry scrunches his own nose teasingly, smiling as the night sky stretches out above and the road opens, streetlamps casting dim glows on either side. An occasional car whizzes past and Harry’s grip on the wheel only tightens. “You’re all rosy though, I’m not sure what you did but I definitely don’t smell uh, axe and like, sweat.”</p><p>“I really started this off by talking about sweaty clothes huh?” </p><p>
“I have no idea what else to say actually, please go on.” Harry laughs, his breathy voice drifting through the soft silence of the car and thrum of the engines. “I like how you talk.”</p><p>“Do you now?” Louis’ voice immediately piques in interest and <em>shit- </em>yes. Of course he’d hit right where the opportunity presents itself. The open, unabashedly charming flirt that he is. Harry feels the suggestive gaze right on him, Louis’ raspy voice filling in, “I didn’t even say anything about how nice you look though. Isn’t that how dates go? All sappy and obnoxiously complementing each other all the time?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know.” Harry shrugs, grin intact, eyes on the road and body cells blazing apart with Louis’ tantalising eyes on him, “I’ve never done this properly before, so if you want compliments then feel free to ask. I uh, am very generous that way.” He fumbles, licking his lips.</p><p>“Yeah?” Louis’ voice drops, “I’m glad you agreed to us, like, going together. Glad you don’t mind me being your first.”</p><p>Um.</p><p>Harry coughs on air.</p><p>“You can laugh, the innuendo was embarrassingly obvious.” Louis huffs out a laugh, “I don’t fucking <em>think </em>before saying shit.”  His legs kick back as they race down the roads, soft laughter alighting every particle. “Seriously though, I appreciate it. Dates are all just overrated, overdone and cliche.” </p><p>Harry’s laughter dwindles down a bit, curiosity and mild amusement filtering in as he glances at Louis’ warm, pliant body. He’s just such a stand out; just shamelessly taking up all the space in the room and boasting about it with the way he presents himself. His personality has such a breath taking charisma and it’s just…. Wondrous. Pleasant and simmered in roses. A rosy, moonlit boy. </p><p>“So is it like a Louis thing?” Harry hums, a curious tilt to his lips, “Making people feel so like... Like, i’m here, right in front of you okay, and you start talking- the way you do- and suddenly i don’t feel so human?”</p><p>“You don’t feel human when i talk??” Louis leans forward, eyebrows raised and voice high. He isn’t offended though, thank fuck. </p><p>“See, I’m so shit at explaining stuff.” Harry shakes his head, a laugh peppering his words. He swerves the car slightly and comes to a halt, smooth and soundless. The red light, yes. Harry’s favourite spot for a breather- which is sort of most needed now. “I mean like, see, you’re like a light bulb okay? A really efficient, perfectly bright bulb amongst uh, dust? Louis, you’re a spark amongst barren, dusty surroundings. And you take it all up, you own it.”</p><p>Silence falls through the waves of abrupt awkwardness and Harry swears a heart attack is close.</p><p>Then it breaks, the silence falls away. </p><p>Louis’ blinding grin breaks right through in an effortless display of white teeth and lights dancing behind the pale blue in his eyes.</p><p>“A spark amongst barren, dusty surroundings.” Louis slowly repeats, enunciating each word. His eyebrows rise amusedly, “You’ve been reading poems, I presume? Hmm? The art of flattery and seduction?”</p><p>“Seduction?” Harry gasps with wide eyes, face getting hotter.</p><p>“Yeah, well, i’m <em>definitely </em>flattered and we can see the seduction part of it later.” Louis smoothly says, and then he winks- actually fucking <em>winks </em>like it’s some sort of cliche flirtatious scene in a cheesy, shitty sitcom. He leans back, genuinely pleased, “You’re quite right when you said you’re good at giving compliments- my head has grown massive now! I stand no chance at belting out such effortless, nice words, so thank you cherub.” </p><p>It’s too much too fast.</p><p>Nice words? Cherub? <em>Seduction??</em></p><p>Harry feels like he’s levitating a bit, head not quite there as the red light flashes yellow, then green and he hits the gas.</p><p>“You can’t give compliments or do you just not have a reason to?” Harry asks, voice low and confused. The roads spread out further, an indication of entering the heart of the town as more number of streetlamps whizz past in yellow glows and dark skies above.</p><p>Louis isn’t saying anything. </p><p>That’s the thing about him, he goes silent and it’s <em>immediately </em>noticeable. The light source blinked shut.</p><p>“That’s not.. How I meant it.” Louis whispers then, gentler, pitch much lower and <em>fuck- </em>he sounds apologetic. Genuinely sad. “See, I myself am shit at making sense.” He shakes his head, blue eyes twinkling in Harry’s peripheral. “I meant it like, no matter what I say, it won’t reach your level. Perhaps my uh, my way of saying it made me sound like a complete dick.”</p><p>“Oh really? Go on, I'd like to hear it either way.” Harry hums, feeling the traces of a teasing smile on his own lips. This could be fun. When Louis’s not so high and unabashedly boisterous. </p><p>“Yeah? You want me to go all out?” Louis smiles into a gentle hum as he rests his head on the seat, eyes on Harry. The car is compact and the air conditioning just perfect, so it’s invigorating; the air just peppered in teasing smiles and words and <em>Louis</em>. “Harry Styles…”</p><p>“You know my full name?” Harry raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yeah, I do. I’m a Tomlinson, by the way. Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles, it does have a nice ring to it.” Louis replies before licking his lips and going straight into it, the subtle smirk in his face remaining intact, “Harry, i think you’re fucking gorgeous and extremely docile in the nicest, most charming way possible. I think- i think you’re absolutely wrong when you think of yourself as boring, because you- Harry, are not <em>boring</em>, alright? Nothing about you fits the definition of boring. You’ve not just got a pretty face and great voice- which by the way is a lot deeper than I'd expected- but added to that is that you’re <em>you </em>Harry! Not bland, not mundane, you’ve got your quirks and your eccentric interests and disinterests and everything that goes on in your head that doesn’t really make sense to you- but by no means does it qualify as unimportant! It’s beautiful and what you feel matters way more than you realise, because you- <em>you</em>, Harry Styles, are a curly cherub. A limited edition one.”</p><p>The car screeches to a halt. </p><p>Silence.</p><p>Some awful sounding bird must be singing in the far distance because Harry’s entire soul drifts momentarily and that’s all he can hear.</p><p>“Did I.. Are you going to ask me to get out?” Louis stares, tentative eyes looming over Harry’s shell shocked face. The warm engines are thrumming underneath, everything jarringly still. “Was it- okay i know i sort of wrote a whole fucking speech and probably like-”</p><p>“Stop talking.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>More silence.</p><p>Then Harry nods to himself, looking up to meet the curious, sort of shaken gaze of Louis Tomlinson. </p><p>Understanding people can be so fucking hard you know, it’s hard and Harry never really had any interest or even the slightest care for gaining any insight into it. He just never bothered. Never cared to perceive. Never found it worthwhile. But now here, sitting in his neon Mercedez in the early hours of the night, beside the human embodiment of blue electricity and color and glossy light- he feels like he cares. He feels like he actually, genuinely cares enough to try to understand this human right here. This pixie. Fluorescent boy. Moonlit electricity. Waves that are shocking his entire system.</p><p>“I thought you’d say something like, i’ve done my hair well or my shirt is neatly ironed or something.” Harry mumbles, fingers thrumming against the steering wheel. He watches Louis giggle, proper crinkles curling beside his eyes as he grins. “And you decided to rip my soul apart and re arrange its fucking pieces.” </p><p>“Precious pieces, in that case.” Louis leans ahead, blue eyes terrifying close and clashing with the gentler undertones that were lathering the air. He licks his lips, gaze dropping to Harry’s lips and darting back up. Slow. “I don’t mean that flirtily by the way, I do believe those pieces are precious.” He whispers, breath sweet and warm. </p><p>Then the spell breaks, everything crashing away within seconds as Louis’ eyes dart behind Harry, freezing right where their destination lies, and squawking out in a much higher voice, “Well, look! Here we are, actually reached our date destination Harry. I thought you were going to kick me out or something when you stopped the car, but hey! It’s our hotel. Yup, it’s time to gorge.”</p><p>And then the door clicks open and Louis is gone. Just like that. </p><p>The vents on the dashboard jeer mockingly, practically laughing into Harry’s face.</p><p>That <em>fucker</em>.</p><p> Louis is so much, <em>too </em>much probably, but- <em>God</em>, he’s really something.</p><p>Harry sighs, collecting all the strewn thoughts and words and emotions scattered in his head as he sifts a hand through the curls and gulps. Once, then twice. He should probably spray some more cologne or pop in a mouth freshener or something (it’s a date after all) but right now he’s in a hurry to get out. Chase after Louis who could be twirling under the stars or laughing at random, aglow billboards or already searching for seats within the diner (they have a <em>reservation </em>and- shit)- so yes. Harry has to get out of the quiet sanctity of his car.</p><p>He has a date with a pixie who runs on a 500 watt engine, see. </p><p>***</p><p>The restaurant is beyond resplendent. Naturally.</p><p>One foot into the luxurious space, just one step inside as the air conditioning hits in a gust of fresh air and scented candles and rexine- and Harry just <em>knows </em>it was the wrong decision.</p><p>“That’s… Wow.” Louis’ voice filters in through Harry’s brain that immediately races off, firing in multiple directions as it scrambles for alternatives. Alternatives for this goddamn date, which simply cannot happen in a place as posh and obnoxiously opulent as this. Not now. He just <em>knows </em>Louis won’t like it this way, has deciphered enough to understand that. </p><p>The heels of their shoes click on the fine marble flooring, dim lights catching on crystals bedecking every pillar, every showcase, every showpiece there is. The air smells rich and gently peppered in wafts of meat and strong champagne, every breath directly hitting their senses. It’s exactly the way Harry remembers it to last be. New Year’s eve with his father and his array of guests.</p><p>Harry watches Louis’ eyes catch the light glinted off on the crystals surrounding them, little prisms dancing there as he inhales a deep breath, obviously awed. Intimidated, even.</p><p>“Harry?” A voice pops in, colliding with the strange silence despite the few handful of people seated at velvet covered tables, dressed in tuxedos and gowns worth only heavens know how much.</p><p>“Lumiere.” Harry breathes out, face melting to feign nonchalance. He flashes a polite smile towards the manager, Lumiere Richard making his way up to them, heeled Oxfords clicking on the marble, all smiles and warm eyes because that’s how he’s expected to behave in front of Des Styles’ son. That’s how he’s trained and that’s how he’s going to go about every hour of the night. Overly charming in that silk tux and blindingly white shirt cuffed at the ends, with a bow tie and neatly done hair because his customer tonight is <em>Harry Styles</em>, see, he has to be utterly cordial. Excessively amiable.</p><p>“Well it’s been a while sir, a truly long time. You last came along with your father months ago if i’m not wrong!” Lumiere’s voice ricochets right off the crystal embossed surroundings, eyes alight on Harry. He has a menu card in one hand, a gold capped champagne bottle in another and a platinum lined smile on his face, “New Years eve was it? Before you’d headed off to New York or summat? Watching the ball drop in Towns Square and all? Your father was always brilliant at celebrations, he knew just what worked with the crowd! Always incredible!”</p><p>Harry’s going to be sick. He’s going to fucking throw up on a date.</p><p>He’s about to answer either ways, chest feeling tight and hot- before he feels sudden warmth right beside him, a gentle arm sliding behind his back and holding his waist. Right there, a grounding hold on his lovehandles. </p><p>Louis.</p><p>“My father is currently out of town actually, Lumiere. He’s uh.. Yeah. Brilliant.” Harry controls his voice and wets his lips, leaning into Louis’ hold and carefully watching Lumeire’s gaze trace the movement. Gentle, piano music swirls somewhere above. </p><p>“But, either ways, this is Louis, my uh, date. I think we had a reservation i had booked at noon, so…?” Harry hurriedly moves on, inhaling Louis’ comforting, vanilla fragrance and focusing on Lumiere’s thin mouth that twists into a well controlled smile.</p><p>“Right, of course. Table for two, the best for both of you. Always!” Lumier’s throaty, forced laugh ripples through the waves of unease as he quickly guides them through the grand room, past tables decked with gourmet and wine glasses, past the huge tinkling crystal fountain, past the gems and clouded quartz reflecting light; towards a table smack dab in the centre. Beside the massive, jeweled piano.</p><p>Right in the middle of the whole fucking room. </p><p>“That’s the best? In the middle of the room?” Louis whispers with a small laugh, breath warm on Harry’s collarbones. They’re still holding each other like adjoined pieces of a puzzle, bodies pliant and close. “We’re gonna be the centre of attention, wow Haz.”</p><p>Okay, so. He isn’t curious or even slightly baffled by any of what Lumeire said then- which is good. Great. </p><p>Harry licks his lips for the fiftieth time since he’d exited his home, taking in a deep breath and nodding as he watches their table being set up with ice trays and bowls full of caviar, with candles that smell of mild rose and tablecloths stained deep crimson hues. Lumeire shuffles around them, explaining the special menu and new ingredients and spewing all kinds of <em>bullshit </em>that Harry has no interest in listening to.  </p><p>Mozart starts playing on the piano, an icy champagne bottle held into his hands as Harry clicks his tongue and pulls Louis closer.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“We’re grabbing that shitty blueberry cheesecake and getting out of here.” Harry slams the menu card shut, shaking his head, green eyes throwing daggers at the entire place. Glitzy and <em>so </em>sickeningly shiny, it’s starting to get tiring. And they’re barely twenty minutes in.</p><p>“Oh. Are you sure?” Louis looks up from his own menu, biting his bottom lip. He definitely wasn’t comfortable with the exorbitant pricing of every goddamn dish there was and hey, Harry <em>knows </em>that, alright. He’s getting them out. He’s had enough.</p><p>“Yeah- I really hate this place, you know?” Harry leans in, whispering into the warm candle placed between them on a plate of rose petals. “Can we just leave? If that’s okay with you?”</p><p>“With <em>me</em>?” Louis scoffs out amusedly, “I thought <em>you </em>liked such fancy shit, so i just went along with it. There’s no fucking way i can even breathe here without feeling like i’ve inhaled bits of crystal or something.” He shuts his menu card, laughing with a gorgeous smile on his face.</p><p>Everything around gleams brighter, glowing around Louis’ contours.</p><p>“It’s just-” Harry fidgets, searching for the words and fighting the urge to unbutton the top of his shirt. Letting himself breathe more freely. He opts for drumming his fingers on the table instead. Porcelain utensils lay untouched on the side “-just not…Not like, I just don’t like it, yeah? I don’t like this place at all. None of what even comes with the whole, you know..” He shrugs, nervous words pelting out, “I- I know it’s probably super weird or something-”</p><p>“It’s not weird, no.” Louis interjects, voice quieter. Something calm and sincere creeps into his gaze as he speaks, voice flowing through the tinkling music, “You just don’t like all of it as much you’re expected by everyone else.” He shrugs, as if it’s the simplest thing ever. Just there. Dropped into the slow, languid swirls of a summer night amongst crystals and Mozart.</p><p>Harry fights the urge to touch Louis’ face, to touch his fringe or hand or those delicate lips to make sure he’s really there. Someone so effortlessly grand actually <em>exists</em>.</p><p>So he smiles instead. He smiles because it’s so easy.</p><p>“Can we get out of here?” Harry gives a one sided smile, a little ridiculous with a streak of burning excitement. </p><p>Louis’ own grin sets every luminescent crystal in the room on fire, throwing the world into a mess of electric blues and mischievous sighs. He grabs the champagne bottle, fingers curling on the glass and leaning in to whisper, “Champagne and cheesecake is all one needs anyways.”</p><p>***</p><p>There’s something about walking down a marble staircase. Something so inexplicably grand and sophisticated about it. </p><p>Even more, when you have personified wonder and blue electric waves gliding down them, each click of heels on stone sending gentle sounds that ripple through the summer air and carve a place in Harry’s chest. </p><p>Because it’s Louis Tomlinson.</p><p>“You know.” Louis shouts a little, voice carrying through the dark silence as he hops off the last marble stone, the hotel left far behind him in bright yellows and gleams. “I’ve always wanted to wander the streets with a champagne bottle and a pretty boy in stow.”</p><p>“You’ve never? Not even with friends?” Harry’s own amused laugh ripples through as he follows Louis down, past the staircase and into the streets, the world stretching out around them. He grabs Louis by the arm, fighting the instant tug and groan he receives in return, “Slow down pixie, we have all the time in the world.”</p><p>“<em>Pixie</em>?? Oh my GOD??” Louis immediately backs off, a palm slapped to his chest in mock hurt. Eyes wide. He’s such a stupid, dramatic fucking bastard. Harry watches as he takes a swig of his champagne bottle, white shirt unbuttoned on the top, hair messy and summery as Louis laughs, “I am not a pixie, Styles. I am not a blue eyes bard. I am <em>not </em>peter pan- because people <em>have </em>called me that in the past, such complete fuckers, those- i’m <em>not </em>a brunette version of richie rich either and the fuckers who called me that in senior year can-”</p><p>“You are moonlit skies.” Harry blurts out, feet soft on the pavement. He watches Louis’ footsteps slow down, watches the way the moon glows behind. “You are moonlit skies and blue electricity and you… You’re fluorescent.”</p><p>A soft breeze of flower scented humid air rips past them, locks off hair catching on it.</p><p>“Oh my.” Louis' face softens, voice dropping to a genuinely pleased tone. “Oh my, my.”</p><p>He slowly walks towards Harry, the electricity that normally surrounds his movements now having been replaced with a calmer, lighter shade of bashfulness. He tilts his head to the side once he’s <em>right there</em>- right in front of Harry, nose brushing Harry’s chin and eye’s tweaked upwards. Endless blue. “You know, even if I <em>did </em>roam the streets with someone before, champagne bottle in hand and everything; it still wouldn’t be the same.” He smiles, every part of him terrifyingly close, breath warm on Harry’s skin, “Our time together has barely started and you’re already leaving me breathless.”</p><p>Harry nearly forgets the box full of cheesecakes he’d been holding in one hand as he goes to hold Louis by the waist. </p><p>“Easy!” Louis immediately steadies Harry’s hand as the cheesecake box nearly falls out of his grip, bound to fall onto the dry pavement and scatter into a beautiful, gourmet mess worth 80 pounds. Wouldn’t that just be fabulous? A fabulous mess on a fabulous night with a fabulous boy. Harry already feels drunk.</p><p>“Open your mouth.”</p><p>“Hm?” Harry’s vision gains clarity, the world blurring to focus and Louis’ face comes into view. He watches the second champagne bottle in Louis’ hand slowly being uncapped, golden foil being whisked away into the summer- before the glass mouth is hoisted to his lips.</p><p>“Oh, you’re feeding me.” Harry blushes  because he feels giddy. Giddy with the cold, burning liquid gushing down his throat, firing away light spots in front of him as Louis’ figure glows amidst obsidian night skies. Everything lulls to dark colors and starry skies and Louis’ firm grip on his waist. Louis Louis Louis.</p><p>“Alright there, it needs to last.” Louis brings the bottle down, content and smiling as he caps it again. “Here we are, two boys, two champagne bottles, two limited bladders and one night.” </p><p>“Oh come on!” Harry squawks out a laugh, grabbing the glass bottle from Louis and taking a long sip to showcase rebellion. “Louis, you don’t <em>think </em>about bladders with 30 pound champagne in hand!”</p><p>“And a boy too. A priceless one.” Louis flashes a victorious grin, sliding an arm around Harry’s waist and squeezing them close, strong scents of cologne, sweat and alcoholic breaths mixing. It’s wonderful, really. It feels so strangely <em>good</em>, everything in the universe clicking together and suddenly, this is all that matters. <em>Now </em>is what matters.</p><p>“So you got called a brunette richie rich in senior year.” Harry settles by Louis' side, humming pleasantly and relishing the horrified look he receives in return.</p><p>“You <em>know </em>I say a lot without really thinking. Why would you do this.. This is truly cruel Harry.” Louis murmurs, shaking his head. He sips on the champagne in hand and wracks out a breath, body warm in Harry’s grip.</p><p>“I know.” Harry responds, sighing as they walk. It’s calm, the street lamps are all aglow, everything around humming silently. “That’s why I want to know all of it. Reserved just for me.”</p><p>“Just for you? How fucking romantic.” Louis giggles. His movements aren’t so electric anymore, not running on full blown energy and jumpy moves. It’s calmer, more tranquil and when he talks it’s unhurried and slow. Just for Harry’s ears. “I was called a brunette richie rich all through senior year and honestly, i <em>still </em>don’t get why and how i am anything like that skinny fucker in diamond shoes….”</p><p>***</p><p>They’ve been walking for really, really long. Far too long because Harry’s feet ache and every footstep makes him wince as they reach a dead end. A dead end which isn’t actually a dead end because the night is glowing all around and the barricaded Carnival before them is all that’s really visible. A dimmer, moodier version of how Harry normally sees it. </p><p>“But that’s alright though, right?” Harry slurs because they’ve been drinking for too long, his tongue feels full of light, wispy fiery particles. Louis’ hold on him has started wavering too. “Because.. Brunette richie rich isn’t too bad. It’s a nice thing. You shouldn’t hate it so much.” He giggles. Slow. Obnoxious. Drunk.</p><p>“Why...? Did you get called stuff too?” Louis frowns, “High school can be rude. My names weren’t too bad, I'm just…” He trails off, blinking through the haze, “Just being-”</p><p>“Dramatic.” Harry finishes for him, bringing up the semi empty champagne bottle to his lips, “I shifted here 2 years back actually. Was a junior in high school here and uh.. I used to get called an <em>actual </em>richie rich. That’s sort of what stuck through for quite some time... An <em>actual </em>snobbish bastard with diamonds on his wristwatch and a fucking Rolce in his father’s garage.” He mutters, heavy and bitter.</p><p>Silence.</p><p>The carnival stretches out in front, its barricaded entrance gleaming in thick metal rods and a big, shiny lock in the centre. It’s dead silent though; no afternoon sun, no cheering children, no parents trying to keep track of their toddlers, no lit up giant wheels, no thrumming candy making stalls- just. Silence. A haunting tune in comparison to the life it’s filled with during the day.</p><p>Louis licks his lips, eyes on the gate. It’s an emotionless stare; pale and unconventionally tired and it should be bizarre but it’s really not. It feels fitting. “You know, I already knew who you were when we first started talking.”</p><p>Harry’s grip slackens.</p><p>“That’s how I recognised you in the club bathroom actually. I.. I’d heard stuff. <em>Seen </em>stuff. Lots of it.” Louis mumbles, swaying a little and blinking at the gate in front. They don’t move forward though. “I’d never given much of a thought to it, just brushed it all away and never judged. Because I- I know what being on the receiving end of that is like, you know. On some level, I do and I never wanted to be the one doing the same.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Harry should be seething, he should be demanding answers or at least be feeling perplexed but it’s just so inexplicably <em>terrifying </em>to hear Louis’ voice drop like that. That raw electricity now long sucked away and something else flows there, something with much more depth and maturity to it. So Harry doesn’t react, he doesn’t spring up with his own words frothing in mild hurt and curiosity. </p><p>“I don’t know Harry. I’m sorry I guess, but I just- what are you doing?”</p><p>“Climbing into the Carnival.” Harry keeps walking away from where he’d abruptly left Louis seconds ago, eyes locked on the high barricade that looms in front. Metal gleams under the moonlight, the steel rods laid out consecutively upwards. </p><p>Louis’ voice reaches from further away, “Won’t that be trespassing or are we just like, not supposed to care?”</p><p>Harry huffs out a laugh, breath strong and eyes mystified in a dull haze. He slides his bottle through the gap between the rods, watching it plonk to the other side before swinging one leg right onto the rod. The entire gate rattle with the effect of it, the sound of sliding metal echoing away, through the dim streets and into the endless skies.</p><p>“Harry-” Louis cautions. </p><p>“I think we’re just supposed to not care.” Harry half yells back, now using both hands to lift himself up and up, feet sliding on metal and hoisting his entire body. “It’s not that hard, you know. Just like climbing a monkey bar.”</p><p>“Except that you could <em>actually </em>fall here and it’s illegal and we’re both too drunk to make any sense of-”</p><p>“I know talking is your thing Louis, but we’re on a date right now and I don’t really give a fuck, okay?” Harry replies, relishing the way his body stretches with the pull, reaching for another bar and pulling upwards. Nearly to the top. “So just get your ass here and we can continue that dreadful conversation we were having.”</p><p>Oops. </p><p>So the bitterness is seeping through after all. Traces of it, maybe. </p><p>That seems to jolt Louis a bit though, something akin to genuine sadness clouding his expression as he walks up, shirt hanging loose and hair askew. He sighs and looks up, watching Harry dangle at the very top. “Climb down on the other side first, we’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood if we’re both on at once.” </p><p>Well, not that Harry really cares about that happening. Heh. </p><p>He manages to climb all the way back down nevertheless, hands straining and throat aching but he does do it after all and it’s <em>thrilling</em>, really. The feel of the mud inside the carnival under his dusty Gucci Oxfords, the scents of citrus and drying flowers, the cool glass of the champagne bottle in his hand; it’s enthralling and it fills every particle that had grown so accustomed to boredom. To exhaustion and mild sadness.</p><p>“If I fall, Harry, I will fucking climb on <em>you</em>.” Louis calls out, his own body hoisted all the way up, feet dangling and eyes wide as he stares down. </p><p>“Ooh, how kinky.” Harry grins, taking a long sip of his champagne and watching Louis’ face glow beet red under the moonlight. He looks so dainty this way, so uncertain and boyish. Harry loves that tentative look in his eye, loves the way he’s <em>still </em>trying to put up a facade of bravado. </p><p>Louis does miraculously manage to make it down without throwing out a dozen expletives or flailing too much to gain balance, but he does grab Harry’s arm immediately and pulls himself really close once his feet find the ground. “I’m not letting you go.”</p><p>“Or rather.” Harry lets his own arm snake around Louis’ petite waist, “You want to stay close.” He leans into the hold, letting a syrupy smile spread, “And Liam’s dad sort of owns this place i think, so if shit does end up going down, we do have a slim chance of getting out.”</p><p>“Just don’t think of it at all, will you?” Louis sighs, looking around the silent, eerie Carnival spread out around them. </p><p>It’s past midnight now and naturally, every ride, every stall remains deserted, locked up and dead silent as they walk through it, arms interlocked and bottles clinking. Swig after swig is swallowed, the moon keeps shining, glistening, glowing and spreading enough light to illuminate the surroundings alongside the floodlights they walk past. An occasional breeze does rush past, mingling with alcoholic breaths and rushing past the deserted rides that creak gently, a mellow tune drifting through the air and gliding into the sky. It smells of summer; the feeling of being young and tired but alive and present. In the moment. </p><p>“So there’s a reason behind why you were constantly so forward and like, friendly.” Harry feels the words suddenly come to his mouth, footsteps slowing down. He feels disjointed, breathless and terrified. “There’s a reason why you knew my full name. You knew I was the snobbish richie rich in town.”</p><p>“Harry, that is <em>exactly </em>what you’re not.” Louis’ own voice immediately tumbles through in desperation, his entire body stiffening as he turns to look at Harry, gaze steady. “Don’t you get it? You feel so much shit because of the stuff that goes around about you, you feel bitter and angry and all that- that <em>negative </em>bullshit- when you should know you’re fucking nothing like that!” He frowns, creases forming under his eyes, “You’re a haloed cherub under the moonlight.” He glances to the moon behind them, a grin forming, “Literally speaking.”</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Harry wracks out a shaky breath, watching Louis with soft eyes and a tired smile he manages to pull off. “So... People still talk, don’t they? Despite finishing high school and like-”</p><p>“They’re obviously bitter, though. Just bitter and frustrated.” Louis shrugs like it’s common knowledge. He makes it sound easy enough, every word melts into a sense of understanding, a sense of nonchalance. “Being the richest kid in town doesn't equate you to being a complete bitch. Stupid, <em>jealous </em>fucks don’t get that in their thick heads.”</p><p>That works its charm, prompting a light laugh out of Harry’s lips.</p><p>Louis tilts his head to the side, blue eyes set in a fond gaze. He slowly rubs Harry’s arm, gentle and soothing and <em>fuck- </em>Harry <em>feels</em>. He feels the way his heartbeat picks up pace, he feels the swell of gratitude in his warm chest, he feels Louis’ breath close to his own, he feels too much to make sense of anything at all.</p><p>“Can we sit somewhere?”</p><p>“Huh?” Louis raises his eyebrows, clearly not expecting that response.</p><p>“Sit? Or lie down?” Harry laughs again, getting dizzier with every breath he takes, “Don’t feel too stable. Might like, fall.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Louis’ own smile breaks and there’s so much <em>relief </em>coating it. “Of course, yes. Get you all laid out, proper nicely.”</p><p>“Laid out, huh?” Harry murmurs, warm, suggestive words floating through the mellow silence.</p><p>“Kinky, I know.” Louis sighs, “Two of us in a shut carnival, past midnight, reeking of champagne and insulting thick headed townskids. Sexy times Harry.” His eyes melt into a gentle gaze as he scans the dark surroundings, “So how does lying down in the centre of a rotating wheel sound like to you?”</p><p>***</p><p>It's probably really dangerous and Harry knows that but every single voice in his head says otherwise. Every other voice in his head tells him that <em>this </em>is all he needs right now, <em>this </em>is what the night is for. For lying underneath the speckle of blinking stars, for feeling Louis breathing beside him, for filling himself with the feeling of being at the centre of the universe. At the centre of the magnanimous town, at the centre of every other insignificant particle the cosmos is smattered with. </p><p>But really, he’s only splayed in the middle of a giant horizontal wheel. With the now empty cheesecake boxes on one side and Louis Tomlinson's warm, inebriated body on the other.</p><p>They’d eaten in complete silence, cross legged in the centre with the seats circling them in a mess of red and orange all dusted in starlight and dark shadows. It felt right, it felt safe this way; locked away from the buzz and chaos outside. Locked away with sugar on their tongue, alcohol tinting their breaths and the constant thrum of feeling alive underneath their chests. </p><p>Louis hasn’t stopped looking at him, hasn’t kept his eyes off Harry the whole time they’d sat and licked off chunks of the rich cream from the plastic spoons. He looked like a gorgeous mess though, hair no more neatly done up, the top three buttons of his shirt now unbuttoned, the pads of his lips red and full and it’s in surreal moments like <em>these </em>that Harry can really admire the different shades that make up Louis’ personality. It’s hard to look away. Even harder to resist the pull to touch, feel and run his shaky hands up the delicate body in front of him. To absorb the way he breathes and the sound of his heart beating, mimicking Harry’s own steady pulsating bloodstream.</p><p>So Harry only stares back.</p><p>He looked guilty, Louis did. He didn’t voice anything, didn’t attempt to string any sentences at all; instead opting to just sit and fucking <em>stare </em>with that soft glint in his eye because he’s so painfully good at that. So painfully <em>good </em>at making people feel the effect of every electric gaze of his, of the constant enigmatic feel that surrounds his languid movements.</p><p>And then, when the cheesecakes were reduced to dusty crumbs and the effect of the alcohol started hitting their senses more purposefully, they’d resorted to lying down. Down underneath the stars, surrounded by the echoing sound of warm breeze, the tunes of a lonely mynah singing in the far distance, of the dead silent Carnival circling them, of their own breathing, sticky with sugar and growing heavier through the passing minutes.</p><p>Until Louis’ raspy voice breaks through.</p><p>“I think I owe you an apology.”</p><p>Ha.</p><p>It’s sudden and shatters the mild melancholia, everything picking up pace in its wake. </p><p>“What's wrong?” Harry murmurs, turning his head to the side to watch Louis.</p><p>“You know what’s wrong..”  Louis replies, voice low and so <em>sad</em>. It doesn’t blend with his usual personality, a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit with the rest, “I should’ve told you I already knew who you were when we’d started talking. Even though none of that even matters since you’re nothing like all of that bullshit.” He frowns, as though attempting to understand it himself. “You’re nothing like that. It’s actually really impressive, you know. “</p><p>Impressive? Hm. That’s definitely new. Harry doesn’t ever remember being called ‘impressive’. </p><p>“So, what goes around?” Harry says, licking his lips and blinking through the yellow spots, “What’s being said? About me?”</p><p>He is a masochist that way, well. It’s been a while since he even properly <em>conversed </em>with anyone apart from Niall, Liam and Zayn since senior year had ended. The first week of the summer vacation right after whisked him off with his father, for a trekking trip in Brazil involving gigantic trees and wet soil and snippy branches and insulated, incandescently lit villas set up in the middle of nowhere, followed by the long weeks weeks right after getting back to town. Slow, dull afternoons full of lazing with his only three friends and spending countless hours within the four walls of his very grand, very empty home; all of that had sort of… Dwindled down the effect of the load of hurt he’d carried with himself after high school.</p><p>And now with Louis bringing it up again, it should be an incentive to resist it, to consciously draw himself away from that negativity- instead he only <em>asks</em>. Only gives into the curious tugs at the back of his brain.</p><p>Louis gulps, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s not like, a lot. Just, you’re the richest guy in town, you know? It makes them uncomfortable. <em>Jealous</em>. Your gorgeous car and your house apparently stand out, just, it’s all really grand-”</p><p>“Oh, so specifics?” Harry huffs out a dry laugh. He feels nothing though, none of the anger and sadness he’d expected. </p><p>“Harry…” Louis frowns, obviously reluctant to go on about the topic. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Oh.. <em>He’s</em> sorry?</p><p>“Why are you sorry?” Harry rubs his tired eyes, slurring out a yawn. “You didn’t contribute to any of it, and like… I mean, I probably just deserve that, you know?” He sighs, too tired to care. “I <em>am </em>apampered fucking lot and do have tons of like, expensive shit lying around at home- so it’d be pretty hypocritical of me to complain.” He feels the tug in his chest,  the dull thrum of guilt there. “See, I'm going to get university seats a lot easier, going to have huge investments in my name, my father’s name attached to every damn thing I do, everything’s just laid out for me. It’s all fucking there for me while everyone else i know <em>actually </em>struggles for it. I don’t know shit Louis, i don’t know <em>shit </em>of what a proper grind is. What struggle is.”</p><p>There. There it all just tumults out.</p><p>It’s almost relieving, an invisible weight suddenly being lifted right off Harry’s chest as he exhales, waiting for the burning regret that’s bound to follow. </p><p>Instead, it’s only Louis' soft voice. His sweet breath. “This is very weird.”</p><p>Well. No shit.</p><p>“I wouldn’t know.” Harry laughs, slow and drained of all energy. He watches Louis’ scrunched face, watches the lines on his soft skin straining to make sense of everything being said. It’s just frustrating and ridiculously hard right now, with all the alcohol coursing through their systems and the night just feels so unbearably long.</p><p>“Maybe it’s not that complicated.” Louis rumbles out, voice husky and heavy with exhaustion. His long lashes flutter softly, skimming his cheekbones as his foggy gaze slowly gains some clarity. “I know, it’s probably just, I don’t know, do you feel guilty? Like, you know-”</p><p>“I do, sometimes.” Harry replies, point blank. It’s so honest, so unexpectedly relieving as he flutters his eyes shut, “I’m sorry, the whole thing’s just...”</p><p>“No, no, no.” Louis suddenly scrambles forward, everything within Harry’s vision colliding in bright sparks as his gaze focuses. Louis is so close, his entire body hovering right in front of him as he speaks, “There’s no <em>point </em>in feeling all that guilt... It is how it is, you know? Things just <em>are </em>the way they are. Like, take me for example? I’m piss drunk and really wanna get snuggly right now but that won’t stop me from fucking talking on and on, right? I’m still talking, still being a fucking mess with my words. It’s the same for your situation.” He giggles, eyes crinkling. </p><p>“Snuggly?” Harry feels a blush rise, everything far too bright. Too silent. “Didn’t know you were the snuggly type.”</p><p>“I- I am.” Louis swallows, clicking his tongue and giggling. He smells sugary, sweet and warm. Then his gaze refocuses, kickstarting more words out of him, “But we’ve got time for that- so just. Harry, okay, so.” Something manic fills his eyes and it’s <em>hilarious </em>actually, it’s fucking hilarious how desperate he is to get his point across. To push through the clutter of alcohol and exhaustion fogging his brain. He takes Harry’s hand, holding it firmly, “This is you, yeah? You had told me you feel too much and you think you don’t deserve shit; but don’t you get it?? It’s because <em>you </em>make yourself feel neglected, you make <em>yourself </em>feel guilty about things that just <em>are </em>the way they are- and then they hit you right back, into the arse.”</p><p>“Drunk Louis is my favourite Louis, you know.” Harry’s laugh rips out of his chest, eyes almost tearing up in hot clumps of tired tears originated from too many different emotions. He pushes forward urgently, burying his head in Louis’ chest and breathing in the sweet smell of his body, the warm, pleasant sweaty skin and spicy cologne. He even hears the heartbeat underneath, fast and thudding. Hard.</p><p>“But sad Harry isn’t mine.” Louis mumbles as a response, nevertheless going to twine his own arms around Harry and pulling him in so their heated, sleepy bodies rest close against each other, sweat and cologne intermixing in an invigorating mess.”I want to fix that, I don’t want you feeling sad.”</p><p>“I’m not sad, Lou.” Harry sighs, closing his eyes, “A little lonely maybe, a little confused, tired. Always, probably. But never <em>sad</em>. I’ve got so much, got great mates and this big, lumpy head of mine. I’m not sad.”</p><p>There’s a pause.</p><p>“You won’t be lonely, I promise.” Louis whispers then, into Harry’s curls, hold tightening and lips curving downwards, “Just because you’ve got so much doesn’t make you less human. Harry Styles can be sad too.”</p><p>“Richie rich of the town.” Harry giggles, finding the tag so fucking funny all of a sudden, “You know, my father would really like it, if he knew. He’d tell me to be proud of that title.”</p><p>“This makes things weirder.”</p><p>“We don’t like weird, hm?”</p><p>“Unless it’s us.” Louis hums, stupidly charming as he nuzzles Harry's curls, smiling into it, “Like I’m sniffing your very sweaty curls right now. That’s weird.”</p><p>“I don’t mind <em>that </em>weird.” Harry mumbles against Louis’ chest.</p><p>“It’s a nice weird.” Louis sighs, “It’s simpler this way. Just, not caring. You don’t have to either, things have just ended up this way. Shitty neighborhood, its shittier townskids, the weird side of life? It’s just the way it is. Even us? This way? Even this was meant to be.”</p><p>“So we just.. Don’t bother?” Harry manages to slur, barely aware of reality. He’s slipping away, slipping into the exhaustion now fully coursing through his veins, imagination creating bleary dreams and surreal sights that cloud his brain, everything simmering away, out of control. It’s the peaceful kind of pull, the kind of sleep that just spreads itself all over, lathering tangled limbs, drunk souls and beating hearts. </p><p>“It’s not worth it.” Louis assures, his voice rumbles and suddenly... it’s all very simple. The universe feels whole, everything just clicks into place. Complete. Perfect. Words are all that’s needed, Louis’ delicate lips are that’s required to utter blossoms of magic, of hope, of reassurance.</p><p>Harry thinks he might've found a soulmate. His soulmate.</p><p>***</p><p>“I really like you this way.”</p><p>The stars blink awake, the world crystallising into existence. Harry watches Louis’ eyelashes flutter, his own heavy one’s batting gently. Louis speaks, soft and barely breaking the solitude. </p><p>“What way?”</p><p>Harry smiles into the words as he responds, “When you aren’t trying so hard to be the whole fucking universe.”</p><p>“Am I not already?” Louis whispers, half asleep.</p><p>“Exactly.” Harry responds, “You try so hard though. Always making me feel giddy.” He sighs, “You already are the universe you know, I like you sleepy too.”</p><p>“You’re so stupid, Harry.” Louis practically giggles, bodies still melded close enough to feel every vibration.</p><p>“I know that.” Harry hums, “You’re stupid too, to be fair.”</p><p>“I’m a ridiculous attention seeker, I know.” Louis replies, but it’s not bitter. Just content. “I don’t mind that. Talkative, oversmart; I don't mind. I like having people like me.”</p><p>“That’s.. That’s what Zayn had said.”</p><p>Shit.</p><p>Louis responds before Harry has enough time to make sense of the words that slipped out, He sounds completely unfazed though. Just drunk and tired as ever, “I was waiting for you to bring him up actually.”</p><p>Huh? </p><p>Harry frowns, face still smushed into Louis’ chest, “So you remember him?”</p><p>“Well, yeah. Same school, same class for a while. Same er.. Personalities at some level too.” Louis clicks his tongue, eyelashes still fluttered shut. “Nothing much to it though, we just didn’t get along. He didn’t like me being over talkative and jumpy, I guess. Preferred his silence.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s Zayn for you.” Harry nods because fuck yeah, that’s him. Silence, cigarettes, limited banter, it’s all Zayn. Harry adores that. “It’s okay though, I like knowing you for myself. I like understanding all your electric words and thoughts.”</p><p>“I really like that.” Louis grins, full and content. Harry feels the sleepiness ebbing forth once again, limbs loosening and heaviness flooding through. He hears Louis words though, clinging close. “I really like <em>you</em>. A hell lot.”</p><p>The champagne bottle rolls off, clinking into the distance as the moon swells higher into the sky.</p><p>***</p><p>“Can I kiss you?”</p><p>It’s said abruptly, but the breathlessness is there, the desperation and searing <em>need </em>for it is intact. Harry waits for a reply, waits as Louis’ lips break into a smile, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open and his whole world crashes into shades of blue.</p><p>“Please, yes.”</p><p>So Harry grins, he fucking <em>grins </em>into the kiss because he can’t keep himself from smiling, can’t stop the slow sighs that escape his lips as they meet Louis’. It’s heavy and slow, but edged with a fiery sort of desperation, sparking off purposeful tongues and the wet slides of their mouths, sugar and traces of champagne still resting atop their sweet breaths. Harry briefly remembers Louis’ hand sliding up his untucked shirt, he remembers Louis’ hot palm searing on the skin underneath, pulling him even closer. Pulling him for <em>more</em>.</p><p>He remembers floating then, drifting through the sparks and intense sighs and kisses all along his jaw, reaching his mouth again, then down his neck, nipping gently and pressing closer. It’s the same mouth there, <em>Louis’ </em>delicate mouth, always so capable of saying everything smart, everything sarcastic, every word that helps Harry forget what caring too much is. It reminds him of electric waves, of the feeling of the residual current when ocean tides hit naked skin, the after effects of when the water pulls away and all that’s left behind is tingles and the rush of salted wind. </p><p>“What’s the time?”</p><p>“What-” Harry feels the lips on his detach, world blurring and then unblurring to focus. Focus on Louis’ moonlit face, on the way his lips are redder now, fuller and wet and-</p><p>“It’s 2 am, let’s go home.” Louis’s suddenly giggling, glancing up from his phone, a bizarre amount of shyness washing over his movements as he kisses Harry’s lips again, pulling away only to kiss his jaw, nose brushing the crook of his neck, “Home, Harry?”</p><p><em>Oh</em>.</p><p>Every molecule around sparks off sudden energy, crackling through Harry’s skin and jolting a current through his veins. It’s excitement, it’s anticipation and the pull at the bottom of his stomach that won’t ebb away anytime soon.</p><p>“Yours?” Harry whispers, arching up his neck to feel Louis’ lips there, hand snaking down to hold him in place.</p><p>“Mine, yeah.” Louis slowly eases away from the warm flesh, from the tiny, wet marks there. His voice drops to something far deeper than usual, hands moving purposefully to help Harry up.</p><p>It does nothing but drive Harry right to the edge, senses piquing, breathlessness overcoming every word he says, helping them out of the wheel, up and away, towards the gate, up the bars and into the streets. It’s a mess of limbs that are too exhausted, of lips that refuse to stop meeting every few steps, it’s just plain exhilaration that takes them forward through the summer breeze and into the dark, endless night.</p><p>***</p><p>The door slams shut, the thwack sound slicing through the silence and coursing through the air.</p><p>“Didn’t you say you lived with two other guys?” Harry manages to speak, breathless and eyes wide as he pulls Louis away from the main door, into the dark corridor that leads further into his home. The air smells clean, save for traces of spices from remnants of food lying covered in the kitchen further ahead, mixed with scents of mild laundry and heady Axe.</p><p>“They’re not home, obviously not.” Louis helps him through the corridor as they stumble on their own feet, movements far too slow and barely in control. “Matt goes to his parent’s on most weekends and David is at his girlfriend’s, we’ve got the house for ourselves.”</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>Harry hums, leaning in to kiss Louis just because he can, relishing the soft sigh that escapes his lips once they manage to stumble into the bedroom. It’s pitch dark inside and none of them find themselves caring  enough to turn on the light, too entranced by each other, by the burning thrill that comes with the quiet knowledge that they have <em>hours </em>to themselves. </p><p>Louis’ foot kicks at the edge of the bed, the sound of their muffled kisses filling the silence as Harry pushes him forward, kicking off his shoes and reaching for the curve of Louis’ collarbones, searing his lips to the spot there. He relishes the sigh that it brings out of Louis’ lips, relishes the sight of his dilated blue eyes twinkling through the darkness. It’s all Harry can see, it’s all Harry <em>cares </em>to see; he begs to feel now. Begs to touch and kiss and worship every part of Louis as shirts are unbuttoned with shaky hands, shaky fingers slide across seams of trousers, breathless sighs escape through the slow minutes and lips reach every part of naked skin exposed.</p><p>“The art of flattery and seduction?” Louis’ soft, teasing voice presses at the jut of Harry’s hips as he’s pulled down, onto his back, palms pressing against the flat of Louis’ bent back.</p><p>“You don’t have to talk now, you know.” Harry finds a breathless laugh escape his own red, semi swollen lips. He feels like he’s levitating a bit, only Louis’ body feels solid, warm and sweet smelling, hints of boy and cologne and bits of alcohol glued to the heat surrounding him. Harry can’t help but pull him closer, pull him in for every bit he can take.</p><p>“We can go slow if you want.” Louis nuzzles at Harry’s stomach, kissing him lower and prompting a low and muffled moan to rip out of Harry’s throat as he buckles, “Whatever you like.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Harry manages to stutter out, blood coursing down in a heavy rush of thrill and pleasure. He holds Louis’ face, gently bringing him up to connect their lips in a breathless tangle. He kisses him firmly, hands running up on the back of Louis’ spine as he roughly whispers against those delicate, thin lips, “Do exactly what <em>you </em>want in that case. Rip me apart for all I care. ”</p><p>“Is that what you’d like?” Louis nearly blushes and it’s <em>so </em>unconventional of him to appear shy this way, but <em>fuck</em>; it’s incredible. Harry feels Louis’ palm reaching lower, feels the way his eyes shine, glazed in thrill and <em>want</em>. “Is that what you want, Harry?”</p><p>“I’m sure that smart mouth of yours can do more than just talk, you know.” Harry mumbles teasingly, skin burning into his own and there- that’s all that’s needed for Louis’ gaze to gain a hint of something sharp. Something jarring. Something Harry knows will stick through for every hour after, all through the night.</p><p>Louis’ hands slide down, fingertips gentle but purposeful as he ducks lower, sheets curling underneath. Skin slides against skin, mouths muffling the sweetest sighs, moonlit skies mystifying and swirling in deep blues and summery scents outside, the surreal feeling of Louis’ body entangling with Harry’s, Louis’ breath sweet against his lips as they kiss over and over, just because it feels right. </p><p>Harry lets himself get buried in the feeling of it, lets himself forget every other insignificant trace of emotion lying as a residue over his exhausted, exhilarated soul. Instead he loses himself amidst the speckle of every star beyond the windows gazing at them with a soft sigh, he loses himself in the way Louis smells, the way he tastes, the way every kiss, every touch carves words of love and adoration as imprints. </p><p>“You’re beautiful.” Louis whispers at some point, broken and wet and everything dwindles down to just skin and lips and the world wisping away to bits all around. It’s gorgeous, it's breathless and the night simply drifts away, drifts Harry along, in sparks of stardust, warm saliva and long forgotten worries.</p><p>***</p><p>It’s sometime hours and hours later, when the first few sunbeams make their way through the morning skies, dawn erupting through the windows as Harry feels his eyes flutter open.</p><p>But there isn’t the usual expected empty space or a thick duvet surrounding him this time. It’s Louis, it’s his warm, sleeping body breathing softly in Harry’s arms. No air conditioning, none of the artificial air fresheners clogging the air; just Louis’ bare body, his limbs still delicately wrapped around Harry’s own gently aching ones.</p><p>So Harry leans forward, not quite opening his eyes and reaching to nose at the back of Louis’ neck. Being the big spoon is pretty fucking amazing if he gets to hold a body like Louis’, all calm and breathing through the tiny spots of sunlight dotting his face. Harry adores this side of his vibrant personality.</p><p>“You know.” Harry feels the words come to his mouth, heavy and tired. He breathes in Louis’ soft hair, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, before coming back up, “I used to always pride myself for being unafraid of loneliness.”</p><p>It’s a heavy thought, rather unfitting for the moment. The quiet, ethereal calm after a night of complete chaos and too many feelings. So much of Louis and Harry’s still not tired.</p><p>“And, what now?” Louis replies, nuzzling closer into Harry’s chest, eyes still shut.</p><p>He’s so painfully pliant now. Maybe it’s an early morning, after sex thing. Harry feels the flutter of warmth in his chest either way.</p><p>“Now? I don't feel like a fear like that is even necessary.” Harry simply says as he closes his eyes, an unexpected amount of gratitude bubbling to the surface. He holds Louis close. “The thought of loneliness should terrify me now of all times, but I'm just...I feel like I'm genuinely happy after so long Louis.”</p><p>It’s fucking honest and it feels like oxygen being pumped right into Harry’s lungs. His fears and trepidations all just melting away in a surreal turn of events. </p><p>“So. After sex Styles is sappy Styles.” Louis giggles out sleepily, sighing fondly and smiling as he speaks, “Gotta keep that in my mind forever.”</p><p>“Forever?” Harry’s voice drips.</p><p>“Yeah, Harry.” Louis turns around smoothly, eyes still seared shut as he goes to properly hug Harry, heavy, sleep infused arms tangling around his dainty waist. “Don’t you want forever?”</p><p>That’s… That’s too big a question.</p><p>So Harry decides to focus on the present instead. It’s simpler so he hugs Louis back and smiles into the crook of his shoulder, breathing in and out. He adores this boy, he truly does find him incredible and fucking eccentric. Maybe forever doesn’t have to be something so massive? Maybe forever can mean just accepting the care, the worship, the kisses he deserves for as long as possible.</p><p>“Forever..” Harry whispers, comprehending the enormity of the word himself and not being afraid of it for the first time. He blinks softly, slowly fluttering his eyelids shut and breathing in Louis’ sweet, morning scent. He wants to keep his fluorescent boy, he doesn’t want to let go at all. “I think I do Louis, forever it might be.”</p><p>***</p><p>Returning home in the middle of the afternoon, with a dead phone and dressed in clothes that don’t belong to him was the worst decision Harry must’ve ever made. </p><p>Having kiss bitten lips, flushed cheeks and stomach spotting an unnatural number of marks doesn’t help the situation either.</p><p>He knows it the moment he backs into the garage after having taken Louis’ bicycle to the last night’s hotel, finding his Mercedez covered in dead leaves and dew, then dumping the bicycle in the back, driving back to Louis’ place to return the cycle- all before heading back to his own home before lunch. </p><p>But it all goes wrong, see. It’s not the same, nothing feels the same when Harry slides out of his car, eyeing the garage with narrowed eyes and blinking through the dull confusion. He’s still exhausted and… </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>He sees it. He sees what’s different.</p><p>There’s his father’s Rolls Royce, poshing and gleaming. <em>Uncovered</em>.</p><p>Fuck- <em>shit</em>.</p><p>And so Harry ran, out of the garage and up the staircase leading to the mansion, multiple loud bells ringing above his head as he shoved hands into his dirty, sweaty jeans pockets (the same one’s he’d worn hours ago because <em>none </em>of Louis’ jeans fitted him. Bless those thighs and arse, though). The door unlocks, key sliding out and back into Harry's hands as he takes in a deep, deep breath. </p><p>“Well hello, here’s our little wanderer.” The voice echoes from inside.</p><p>Harry practically falls to the floor.</p><p>“What.. How did you-” He starts, because he does have to say <em>something</em>. So he tugs at the sleeves of Louis’ sweatshirt, forcing air into his lungs as he walks into his home, his father looking right at him from the massive couch in the middle of the living room.</p><p>Des Styles is here. His father, the wealthy diamond merchant who is never in town and leaves behind his pampered son in a resplendent mansion- is home now.  It’s so ridiculously fucking cliche, Harry wants to laugh. </p><p>Harry <em>knows </em>he’s the typical, neglected rich kid here. He knows how dramatically cliche the whole situation is and he fucking <em>hates </em>the bitterness, the frustration that comes with how petty all of it is.</p><p><em>‘Maybe it’s not that complicated.</em>’ Louis had said, hours and hours ago. It feels like a lifetime now, hints of soft kisses still lingering all over Harry’s skin.</p><p>“Dad.” Harry breathes out, fluttering his eyes shut for a few long seconds and swallowing the lump in his throat before opening them. It’s all the same; reality doesn’t change. It doesn’t changed despite how desperately Harry wants it to</p><p>“Where were you?” His father laughs, good natured and grinning and it triggers some frustration, it triggers melancholy and such unexpected <em>guilt</em>. Des goes on, still seated on the couch in a perfectly trimmed beard, luxurious sweats and a fucking <em>wine glass</em> in hand. “I landed from New Jersey last night expecting you to be playing your Xbox in your room or something- isn’t that how it goes these days? Summer vacations?” He laughs again, sipping the blood red liquid, “Didn’t expect you of all people to become a wanderer. Overnight that too.” </p><p>Well. </p><p>“I missed you too.” Harry grumbles, kicking the door shut and relishing the air conditioning that assaults him, pooling his warm pores with coolness.</p><p>He means to walk right past the couch then, he means to ignore his fathers amused gaze and stalk up to his room where he can text Louis (because of course) or watch some shitty movie or while away his day in his uber cosy bedroom upstairs- instead his feet move elsewhere. His feet take him towards the couch.</p><p>The thing is, Harry feels guilt this time. Highly unexpected <em>guilt </em>that floods his senses, bubbling to the surface as he strides towards the couch instead, blindly. He has been fucking pathetic, see. All this time, he has only been incessantly cranky and frustrated with everything given to him on a silver platter with crystal glasses and cutlery that gleams in daylight. He has been relentless all this time; with the building anger and constant bitterness, hollow and dry from within, swallowing all the luxuries, down and down and down. When really, it probably was simple after all. It’s just his father here, it’s just… Just how things are. </p><p>So Harry bends down, sweat beads rolling down his temple and throat bone dry as he does so, he goes in for an embrace.</p><p>Hugs are easy, you know. Harry never had much of them. Never asked for it either.</p><p>His father feels nothing like home, nothing like what Harry painfully wishes for; instead he smells of mild cigarette smoke, of strong red wine and Tom Ford perfume. He hugs back though, unsteady and taken off guard, but he does place his wine glass on the glass coffee table to reach out and hug Harry back through the heavy confusion, the dissipating disdain lathering the air.</p><p>Harry sort of wants to apologise too, he wants say he feels fucking guilty for being a shitty, miserable son for eighteen years. For taking and swallowing everything given till his throat clogged, never once bothering to step away and feel <em>grateful</em>. And what he did instead was fill up that space with baseless anger; so much fucking bitterness. So much of what never should have had a place in his system.</p><p>“We should probably do this more often.” Harry says as he pulls away, licking his chapped lips and watching his fathers sparsely wrinkled, sharp face morph from purely incredulous to amused. </p><p>“Hugs?” He raises an eyebrow, genuinely confused. But there’s a glint there, behind the green eyes Harry was born with too. </p><p>“Yeah, sure.” Harry shrugs, sifting a hand through his curls and feigning nonchalance that comes rather easily with the befuddled calm. “You know, like, anything more than the usual, you leaving for six months straight, then coming home and asking about school and then taking me to your lavish parties and then leaving again, for another six months.” he clicks his tongue, “Over and over again.” </p><p>That is what shakes up the calm. </p><p>Harry didn’t mean to be snappy or harsh, he didn’t mean any of that. He just.. Wants more. Wants to make amends. Make things better. He’s fucking <em>tired </em>of whiling every single day with the knowledge of his father’s absence gnawing the back of his fuzzy brain. He’s <em>tired </em>of being overly diplomatic and his life just moving on without him, without the warmth he deserved to have grown up being surrounded with. </p><p>“I might actually settle down, you know. Get a base.” Des speaks, as a milder, quieter emotion creeps into his gaze. Nothing like the usual, obnoxious wealthy man who built an empire for himself, studded in diamonds and leaving behind a soul that only stood by the sidelines and watched. Leaving behind Harry Styles who had only learnt to harbor frustration and longing. </p><p>“Might.. Might stop travelling so much, I don’t know.” Des continues, rubbing a hand across the planes of his cheek and sighing, “I.. I’m sorry, I think. I didn’t-”</p><p>“Hey, no, no, no.” Harry intervenes, face pulled into a frown. This isn’t about apologies, damn it. “We don’t need all the overdramatic shit here, yeah? Dad. Things are splendid, things are…” he swallows, uncertain and hollow, “It’s great and <em>I’m </em>great-  and I just… Maybe I'm just a little tired of your distance. Tired of just… all that diplomacy which shouldn’t even be a <em>thing </em>between like, a father and a son.” He coughs, highly aware of the immediate awkwardness that slips. </p><p>Well, shit. Heavy stuff, too much of it. He doesn’t fucking <em>know </em>what he wants.</p><p>But then Des Styles is on his feet (that is the plush, velvet slippers he walks in) and his face positively splits open into a radiant smile, all the amusement floating away to be replaced with open understanding. He pads up to Harry, arms stretched open and there- of course Harry gets a hug. Of course he gets pulled into an embrace that means to convey tender apologies and unspoken compassion. </p><p>His father understands.</p><p>“Maybe I was right after all.” Harry hears his fathers throaty voice, “Your introvert nature and lack of conversation used to confuse me, you know.” He slowly backs away, shaking his head in plain awe, “I guess there was a lot beneath it after all, Harry.”</p><p>“Isn’t there always.” Harry whispers, mostly to himself but loud enough for his father to hear. It prompts a curious smile and he knows his father might never directly say it, his ego won’t let him; but there is understanding. There is that tiny spark for change, that willingness to make amends with his conventionally reclusive son who learnt that maybe things are rather simple after all.</p><p>***</p><p>The door slams shut and Harry stares.</p><p>He stares at the wall, stares at the door, stares at the dimly lit ceiling. Then he blinks, slow and steady, bringing the pads of his fingers up to rub his tired, moist eyes. He opens them again, the quiet blue hues of his cool bedroom enveloping him close. In and out, he breathes softly, feeling the swirl of emotions underneath his chest.</p><p>It’s going to be alright. </p><p>It’s a quiet reassurance to himself, the warm thought embedding itself into the crooks of his bones as he swallows and climbs into bed, curling into the thick, fresh duvets and breathing the sterile air. </p><p>His eyelids flutter shut, the world lulling to slow silence. He hears the faraway buzz of his phone, electricity jolting through his limbs because he <em>knows </em>that’s Louis. He knows they’re going to talk and it’s probably going to be forever after all. The fuzziness fades away and he drifts asleep, feeling strangely tranquil and content after ages.</p><p>**</p><p>“You know, I don’t actually like fruits.”</p><p>It’s nearly a week after Harry’s first date with his now boyfriend (Louis Tomlinson, yes, the boy who runs on electricity, charm and long kisses- and Harry still has no fucking clue how he ended up with someone like him. Bless). And it’s sunny outside, the sky is in light shades of the richest blues, large, fluffy white clouds drifting along and splitting through the narrow beams of sunlight that hit the planes of Harry’s cheeks and light up Louis’ entire face in speckles of crystal-like prisms.</p><p>He’s a little too far gone probably.</p><p>Nevertheless, the world feels light on his shoulders as they sit in Louis’ backyard like they do on most late afternoons now after Niall or Zayn or Liam drag Harry to day concerts in searing heat conducted downtown or massive ice cream vans stocked near fares or the new fro yo shop opened in the nearby mall, and so on. Which, well, yes. There’s a slight problem too.</p><p>Neither of his mates know about Louis’ existence.</p><p>That.. Might actually a pretty fucking massive problem, actually. Because Harry sort of has to lie on most days now, when he turns down karaoke night or clubbing or neighborhood summer parties in favor of going over to Louis’ instead. To Louis where he gladly gets warm hugs, sweet, lemony kisses and burnt cookies (they’d tried baking once, yes, and it was a disaster- because well. Louis does <em>not </em>know how to set the timer to his own oven, yes) and he gets lost in summery gazes, ice cream lathered lips and sex that lasts for <em>hours </em>through muffled words and breathless sighs because it’s <em>Louis</em>. It’s the beam of light, of hushed words and sweet whispers that Harry doesn’t ever want to look away from.</p><p>And now, it’s been nearly a week.</p><p>“Not going to say anything or did you get a brain freeze? The ice is fucking cold, I know.” </p><p>“What?’ Harry’s gaze snaps down, blinking through the momentary haze. Louis’ head is on his lap- right. The sky is blue, his own head is suspended somewhere between the clouds and Louis is smiling up at him, in a very thin white tanktop and ice cream stained crimson lips.</p><p>“Maybe sunshine isn’t the only thing lurking in the clouds.” Louis laughs, small and teasing as he reaches to brush a curl off the side of Harry’s face. “I said, I don't actually like fruits.”</p><p>Huh.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>The memory clicks right into place.</p><p>“Wait, <em>seriously</em>??” Harry raises his eyebrows, ignoring the sweat trickling down the back of his neck and pooling on his thin, sleeveless tank top. He blinks, motioning to the lush, green trees surrounding them, enveloped in sunshine “You- okay, so, what are all these little trees doing in your adorable, little backyard? So- what, you grew them cuz they look good?”</p><p>“First off.” Louis clicks his tongue, reaching to boop Harry’s nose and settling for a grin, “My trees and my backyard are <em>both</em>, not tiny. Secondly uh- i didn’t grow them.”</p><p>“What.”</p><p>“My flatmates did.”</p><p>Well yeah. No shit.</p><p>It suddenly strikes as something so <em>obvious</em>, though.</p><p>“Oh, so you were just flirting.” Harry feels a gentle smile pull at his lips. He reaches for a new pack of cookie ice cream from the massive ice box beside them, licking the traces of sugar from his lips from the previous one they’d gorged on. “You were uh..” He raises his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side as he grabs a plastic spoon, bare feet tickling on the grass underneath them, “Right, yeah. You figured I  liked fruits so ran real fast with it just so it could strike something- and I somehow did! Of course Louis; of course you fucking did that.” He laughs, open and breathless.</p><p>But the laugh mutes to a muffled gasp right away, just as he’s about to bite off a chunk of ice cream from the spoon- when Louis leans up and promptly kisses him. </p><p>It’s cold and tastes like icy chocolate, firm on Harry’s lips who instinctively reaches in to deepen the kiss; but only gets silenced by a soft whisper in his ear right then. “You’re even cuter when you get excited about something you know.” </p><p>Harry grins, face glowing as he indulges himself in another sweet kiss just because he can. Because the sky is bright and the world feels insanely full of kisses and sweet sighs escaping Louis’ mouth.</p><p>“You know.” Harry licks his kissed lips when they pull away, watching Louis’ gentle blue eyes trace his face. He slowly sinks his spoon into the thick ice cream, fingers cold on the crate. He’s searching, see, he’s desperately searching for a way to steer the conversation forth, a few thoughts (that feel like too many) all just ricocheting off his mushy head. “Uh…so dad’s leaving again in a few days, right before the new term starts. Like, right before university begins; freshman year and all.”</p><p>Louis leans back, gaze sweeping across Harry’s face. He breathes out, heavy concern flitting through the blues. “He has said he’s planning on settling down, right? How long is that?”</p><p>Yeah, so Louis knows about that. He knows because Harry spills his fucking guts out about everything that clogs his mind and dampens the light particles in his brain whenever he gets the chance to. And Louis breathes life into him, he makes Harry feel like it’s all rather simple. ‘Now’ is simple. ‘Now’ isn’t so terrifying. </p><p>“It’s just.. Bullshit.” Harry mutters frustratedly, shaking his head and bringing the ice cream scoop up to swipe off the bite, “I don’t know, I just wish he’d stay sometimes.”</p><p>“It’s not bullshit, it <em>sucks</em>.” Louis chisels the sentence into the air, frowning, “It’s like a chasm, like maybe.. You can’t fill that emptiness so easily. It’s going to take time but it will fall into place. Being a millionaire dad to Harry Styles isn’t easy, you know.” He tilts his head, flicking a playful smile, </p><p>“Yeah I know.” Harry’s own soft smile tugs at his lips, cold ice cream melting on the warm pads. He scoops up another chunk, drips glistening under the sunlight- and feeds it to Louis instead. “That’s why I’m not pushing it. Just letting him go with it so we can sort out our own relationship once he’s actually free.”</p><p>‘See, it’s simple.” Louis shrugs, happily eating the chunk of ice cream, chocolate smearing the sides of his thin mouth. “And you’re going to be in universi-tay! I wish you were in mine, we could make out in the lockers.”</p><p>Harry’s laugh that follows rips right out of his throat, nearly choking on the ice cream as he pounces at Louis for a bruising kiss, in a mess of ice on lips.</p><p>The world glows bright, in sparks and flames and the scent of Louis’ coconut shampooed hair envelopes Harry.</p><p>“Well, you can’t do that in that obnoxious elitist university of yours.” Louis presses the words into Harry’s mouth, lips quivering as he bends backwards to provide more space, “We have makeout corners all around the Cafeteria I work in too- you have to consider it. I’ve seen <em>things </em>happen all over the campus.” He smirks.</p><p>“<em>We</em> can do <em>things </em>anytime.” Harry pulls away, breathless and dazed, lips sweet and sticky. “Evenings and nights are all ours. We can climb into another haunted Carnival for all I care.”</p><p>“Haunted? Was it haunted?” Louis tilts his head, smile intact.</p><p>“I donno.” Harry grins, leaning in again to kiss Louis, hand reaching forward to hold him by the back of his neck, aligning them in place, “We’ve got all the time in the world to find out.”</p><p>“Always, we do.” Louis manages to keep it short, stuttering the few words out before the softer kisses transcend into a proper snog, lips connecting and pulling away, everything feeling much simpler. Harry’s heart soars, soars into the clouds, into the trickles of sunshine, ice cream long forgotten and the summer sky bursting into flames above.</p><p>***</p><p>“Will you meet my mates, Louis?”</p><p>The couch immediately shifts, naked feet sliding on it as Louis’ head rises from the horizontal position he’s in, confused blue eyes tilting to the side and frowning at Harry. There’s a pizza box on his stomach, unfinished slices scattered inside as an Oasis song Harry doesn’t recognise softly plays from the phone lost between the tangle of limbs and soda cans.</p><p>It’s a bit of a mess, yes.</p><p>It smells of strong, lemongrass showergel and hints of spiced chicken, Louis’ small, relatively cramped home welcoming Harry with warm, laundry scented arms. Like it does everyday, like Louis himself blows him off within the confines of the same home every day.</p><p>Anyways.</p><p>So. </p><p>“Did… Something happen?” Louis raises a tentative eyebrow, the long, lazy day (music, kissing and blowjobs, basically- which is fucking perfect) having settled into the creases of his mildly tired face. He isn’t firing off purely on electric sparks this way and that’s when Harry feels like pulling him that much closer.</p><p>“Well, I just declined the third invite for karaoke night with them this week.” Harry motions to his glowing phone, sighing exasperatedly and sliding lower into the couch. He’s too tired for this. “They don’t know about us.” He hums, sad and pathetic because it’s easy to let those emotions in.</p><p>“Oh, lying isn’t fun. I’ll just meet your mates.” Louis shrugs. Simple.</p><p>“Huh?”
</p><p>“Don’t huh me Harry, not with pizza here.” Louis scolds, soft cheese resting on his lip as Harry stares.</p><p>“No, no, don’t get all sassy now.” Harry sits up, entire body groaning in response as he does so. He’s fucking <em>old</em>, sometimes. Tedious stuff. “You’ll meet my mates? Really?”</p><p>“Well, yeah, approval is necessary.” Louis replies, easy as cake, “It’s like meeting the in-laws.” He scoffs, mirth lathering his saucy lips.</p><p>The… In-laws?</p><p>Right. </p><p>Harry takes a few seconds to digest it though, swallowing before grabbing Louis’ pizza and taking a huge, noisy chomp. “You’d have saved me so much stress and so many lies if you’d fucking told me before, smartass.”</p><p>“<em>Told you before</em>? The boyfriend doesn’t fix up meetings with the in laws Harry!” Louis bursts out, grabbing for the pizza slice- only to watch it all get stuffed into Harry’s delighted face.</p><p>“Aw, the boyfriend didn’t get the last slice either.” Harry pouts, fake mocking as he shrugs and licks his fingers to add to the effect, “So <em>sad.</em>”</p><p>“Harry!” Louis practically screams, pouncing on him and knocking off the empty box as his face falls open in exaggerated offense, “Look at you getting all high and mighty now that the in laws are in talks. Fucking menace!”
</p><p>“Oh, that I am.” Harry grins, kicking off the couch and grabbing Louis’ waist to pull him down for a hug, everything aligning perfectly in place and the warm summer breeze outside wisping away dead leaves and moonlit twigs. Louis’ body settles in after a long few minutes, dramatically giving up and hugging back as Harry sighs and the universe dwindles down to warmth, sweaty curls and happiness.</p><p>So much happiness.</p><p>***</p><p>“Niall.”</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“<em>Niall</em>?’</p><p>“Yeah, Harry, what-”</p><p>“My place, tomorrow, eight pm.”</p><p>“Huh? Mate? Did something happen-”</p><p>“Bring Zayn and Liam.”</p><p>“Call them yourself.” </p><p>Harry hears the fucking smirk too. <em>Asshole</em>.</p><p>“What.”</p><p>“Call them yourself.” Another smirk.</p><p>“No, you <em>dick</em>, I said you bring them.”</p><p>“And I said-”</p><p>“JUST FUCKING END IT THERE HARRY!’ Louis booms in from afar. </p><p>“Right, Eight pm, my place, with Liam and Zayn.”</p><p>“Har-”</p><p>Harry keeps the phone down.</p><p>**</p><p>The kitchen is silent and empty when Harry pads inside the next morning.</p><p>It’s barely dawn outside and he doesn’t quite know why he’s up so early, but he doesn’t miss the swoop of his stomach when he realises the whole house is dead silent. Granite and glass counters gleam in the mellow, blue darkness as he licks his lips and blinks.</p><p>So.</p><p>His father has left.</p><p>It hurts a little, or maybe a fuckton but the agitation seizes when he reaches the dining table, empty porcelain vessels and upturned contains aglint as light reflects off of it. </p><p>And there’s… A note. </p><p>Right.</p><p>Harry nearly laughs at how dramatically cliche it feels. Maybe even prompting a few tears.</p><p>
  <em>‘Got a flight to Vegas early, will catch up once i land. Won’t be too long, I promise. We’ll work it out H.’</em>
</p><p>Harry lets himself stare with bleary eyes before swiping up the note, tucking it into his sweats and padding all the way up the stairs, breathing through the strange, heavy gratitude settling into his veins.</p><p>***</p><p>“I’m nervous.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You’re going to meet them. Like, for real.”</p><p>“They’re not the royal family, Harry.” Louis' amused voice crackles through the air, “Just the in laws.”</p><p>He’s up on the counter, socked feet hanging off the glass and head resting on a sleek, metal cabinet above as his face flickers in curiosity and wonder. That’s sort of how it’s been for the whole hour since he walked through the front door, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Just, taking in the magnificent wondrous interiors, gaping at the embedded neon lights on the ceiling, staring at the tiny, crystal fountain spouting in the middle of the room, and nearly collapsing to the cool floor when Harry had shown him to the indoor galaxy pool upstairs.</p><p>“You don’t swim in it??”</p><p>“Sometimes I don’t like swimming that much.”</p><p>“I’d build a home <em>inside </em>a pool like that.”</p><p>So.. Yes. Louis’ awe hadn’t half subsided even a full hour later, when they settled in the kitchen, dancing around to soft hums of Coldplay and switching through a variety of restaurants because food is a necessity and according to Louis ‘meeting the in laws needs McDonalds, it’s tradition.’</p><p>Harry can’t help but feel a little too charmed.</p><p>But it’s been nice overall and Louis’ now sat atop the counter in a simple white t-shirt and skinny jeans; looking like a gorgeous pixie.  </p><p>Harry couldn’t help but half consider cancelling all other plans and making out right there on the cool countertop instead, with the gentle thrum of the AC, rhythmic hum of the fountain, tinkling of the crystal showpieces and… Louis’ lips, hands and thighs of course. And that glorious, seventh wonder of an arse clad in skinnies.</p><p>Too much, it’s already too much. Harry needs to focus on breathing.</p><p>“I’ve actually been thinking about it a bit.” Harry angles himself towards Louis, the buzz in his ears increasing as he watches Louis’ suggestive, teasing smile grow. “If they’re your in laws, they’re like, my parents right- which uh, makes this really weird but..” He leans forward, closing his eyes and feeling Louis tug a finger under the waistband of his black jeans. <em>Focus</em>, Styles. “Well, they sort of are like the only company I had once we shifted and dad was never home. They did nurture me, like, sort of. So they <em>are </em>your in-laws in a way.” He blabbers out, all at once, right as Louis huffs out an amused laugh and pulls him close so their chests bump, Louis’ thighs enclasping around Harry’s waist and mouths colliding.</p><p>You know what? Who fucking <em>cares </em>about focusing? </p><p>“You’re very brave, you know.” Louis mumbles between their lips, bringing a gentle hand to hold Harry steady as he leans in further, deepening the kiss.</p><p>Hmm. Brave?</p><p>“I was always a bit of a sleepyhead actually.” Harry giggles, sweet and bashful as Louis only tugs closer, his lips tasting sweet and slightly minty. “Always like,” he breaks off, “Drifting, not really in the moment with things. Docile, gullible, maybe.”</p><p>“Hm. Are you in the moment now, Harry?” Louis raises an eyebrow, purposefully digging his hands into Harry’s sides, sparks shooting off the fingertips and racing down Harry’s spine as his breath hitches and he ducks, breaking the kiss and burying his face into the arched planes of Louis’ collarbones instead.</p><p>“More than. Might actually forget reality.” Harry sighs breathlessly, relishing Louis’ soft laugh as they just stay that way, almost swaying and humming against each other’s skin, leaning against one another with small smiles.</p><p>He feels awake. Alive. He feels a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose and it leaves a suspended feeling in its wake. It’s all quite simple.</p><p>Then he feels the slight tug in his stomach.</p><p>“Dad uh, left today morning.” Harry mumbles, sniffling a bit as Louis’ hold on him immediately tightens, “He actually left behind a <em>note </em>on the dining table; just how extra is that.”</p><p>“Wow, look babe, you’re living the sitcom life.” Louis soothes, fingers breaching under Harry’s t-shirt and gently rubbing circles.</p><p>Harry hums contentedly, nearly slobbering like the gone pup he is, “He’s actually making an effort this time. Most mornings I'd just wake up, notice he’s gone, feel absolutely nothing and just go on with life.” He inhales sharply, frowning, “Or maybe life sort of went on without me?”</p><p>Louis lets out a soft laugh, pressing his face into Harry’s curls and sighing, “It’s not though, is it? It’s not leaving without you-”</p><p>“It <em>is </em>actually quite simple. Maybe you were right.” Harry blinks. Because fuck- <em>fuck</em>, suddenly the world isn’t half as terrifying as it was two weeks back, pieces of a massive puzzle just somehow rushing towards each other and clicking into place, bit by bit, and it’s crashing into one massive storm now. A storm where Harry’s in the centre and where the winds used to be whipping, they’re now subsiding, everything gentler and every second now ticks on the palm of his hands, right there.</p><p>He actually sighs, he actually fucking <em>sighs </em>with the relief and realisation.</p><p>“We aren’t even outdoors, where’d you drift to now?”  Louis taps at his temple, adoring eyes reaching his eye level.</p><p>“I think i’m always going to be a bit like this.” Harry snickers, light and bashful. “We’re pole opposites sometimes. You’re all words and electricity and pixie like stance-” he promptly receives a pinch as he giggles and shifts,”-and I’m a little you know.” He grins, cupping Louis’ face and pressing kisses all over, on his nose, cheeks, forehead, then one sloppy one on his lips as Louis practically squeals, “Little slobbery puppy like. Sleepy, slobbery.”</p><p>“Angelic, stupid, cherubic, haloed seventh wonder. My one and only, sex on legs, you.” Louis nods, eyes wide and incredulous as his laugh floats away, through the empty house, resonating against every cool corner and throwing Harry into the far corners of the galaxy.</p><p>Forever sounds fucking great.</p><p>***</p><p>“Fuck, they’re here.” Harry’s heart jolts, pulling away from Louis’ mouth and scrambling to pull him off the counter. This wasn’t a good idea, it simply was <em>not</em>. “They’re here, they’re here, they’re here.”</p><p>“Great, interrupted a makeout session didn’t they.” Louis grumbles, casually sliding off the countertop and sifting a hand through his now unkempt hair, lips bright red and cheeks flushed.</p><p>The doorbell dings again and Harry barely has time to double check what a state he must be in and for <em>once </em>he’s grateful they hadn’t gone down to their knees through all the messy snogging they mindlessly indulged themselves in to pass time.</p><p>“Okay!” Harry scrambles, socked feet icy on the cool floor as he swallows and pads down the hall, past the couch and massive television, past the fountain and towards the sleek main door. There’s a faint pounding at the back of his head, lips still sweet and puckered and it’s all way more terrifying than it should be. Nevertheless, he opens the door.</p><p>And he gets hit by three highly unamused faces.</p><p>The blood drains out of Harry’s face, the soft pounding picking up pace in the side of his head as he licks his lips, blinking at Niall, Liam and Zayn standing right there, against the backdrop of a warm, starry night- with blank, unimpressed expressions. </p><p>They.. Don’t look happy. At all.</p><p>He’s fucked, isn’t he?
</p><p>“You- you guys came.” Harry says stupidly, holding the door open and staring like a puffer fish. </p><p>He should drop to the floor you know, he should kiss their scruffy feet and adoringly pat their sweaty faces or something; should profusely thank them for tolerating his petty arse for so long now. But instead, he stares.</p><p>Then Niall speaks.</p><p>“Not coming in till you speak.” mutters the irish, blonde clump adorning a mildly sad pout and a genuinely concerned glaze in his eyes. He’s in his favorite half sleeved white jumper, the one Harry has an exact pair from when they shopped together at Central Mariplex two years ago. A lifetime ago. Now though? Now the sight jolts a twinge of pain, like a slap on the face that burns dreadfully long.</p><p>Zayn and Liam stand closeby, tentative and mildly perturbed, and they’re all just… watching him. Just fucking staring at the embarassed, guilty puffer fish on display- that is Harry Styles.</p><p>A lone car screeches on the pavements in the distance and the moment feels very climatic.</p><p>“Just… Come in, yeah?” Harry swallows, “I’ll-”</p><p>“What have you been up to?” Niall pelts, confused and maybe a little hurt.</p><p>Harry half feels like shredding his skin.</p><p>“What-” He starts.</p><p>“<em>What</em> have you been doing Harry?”</p><p>“Ni-”</p><p>“Me.” </p><p>Harry’s entire system jolts with newfound electricity, eyes snapping to the side to watch Louis come right next to him, a polite, confident smile on his face. He slides an arm around Harry’s waist, locking Harry at his side firmly whilst Harry himself considers shooting right off and fleeing into the streets, never having to witness the tumult of too many overwhelming emotions.</p><p>Instead, Louis starts speaking beside him.</p><p>“He’s been doing me.” Louis grins unabashedly, a toothy yet charming display. The AC thrums dramatically from behind them, Niall, Liam and Zayn simply watching with wide eyes and agape mouths. Zayn- <em>Zayn </em>looks almost…. Is he smirking? Is he? <em>Smirking</em>??</p><p>Oh, okay. This could be different.</p><p>“Come on in please, the air conditioning is on lads.” Louis beckons like the absolute charmster he is, crinkles curling hear his cerulean eyes.</p><p>Niall scoffs, but steps in nevertheless, followed by the other two perplexed faces. He sweeps bored eyes across the living room, scoffing again, “It always is though.”</p><p>“The bills get paid sometime too.” Louis laughs good naturedly, gently tugging a shell shocked Harry along, into the massive living room, towards the sound of the tinkling fountain happily spouting away.</p><p>Harry watches his mates sigh, watches them glance at him with a quiet, incredulous look as they seat themselves on the velvet couch, kicking back and sinking into it as custom. Their presence had been a common occurrence just a few weeks back, Zayn dropping in for breakfast, Niall gorging on fries as they’d splay themselves on the luxurious rugs, Liam dropping in once in a while to lend study material or chat up about the ongoing tournaments- it was a <em>thing </em>back then. A thing that Harry wishes didn’t have longing attached to it now.</p><p>“So, how long?” Liam speaks up expectedly, eyes bright and filled with soft wonder. He’s always been so good, such a good fucking sport. He leans forward, well toned body glowing underneath the dimly lit ceiling, socked feet brushing the persian rug..</p><p>How… Long?</p><p>“How- what?” Harry blinks, barely realising as Louis helps him down on the couch in front of the other’s- before squeezing right beside himself. Like chopsticks stuck together, glued on the vast couch and staring up at three amused faces. Well, Harry’s staring, Louis’s the perpetual effortless diva.</p><p>“How long have y’all been fucking?” Niall barks out, huffing a laugh alongside as Harry feels his entire body glow bright red.</p><p>It’s good natured; <em>good natured.</em> They’re just curious. Right, yes.</p><p>“More than a week now.” Louis clicks his tongue casually, huffing out a soft warm laugh that plasters on the molecules of the air and sparks off the suspended breathless within Harry’s chest. “Met over the internet, you know how it goes.” he sing songs, just because he fucking can.</p><p>“Oh, that i do know.” It’s Zayn this time and he’s openly smirking, watching only Harry with what almost looks like a suppressed smile. “Didn’t expect this though.”</p><p>“That we’d actually hit it off?” Louis’ voice flits in, a permanent smile tracing the words. He watches Zayn with a quiet, curious gaze, calm and contained whilst Harry practically feels the blood roar past his ears, dizzying for no apparent reason.</p><p>They <em>knew </em>each other. His boyfriend and one of his closest friends <em>knew </em>each other; at <em>fifteen</em>.</p><p>And now, <em>he </em>is the reason of them meeting again.</p><p>That’s fucking massive… right? Right, no, it’s probably not, Harry’s just losing his mind through every loud second.</p><p>“You’re still as perplexing as ever, aren’t you?” Zayn speaks softly, laid back and smug. He’s just taking it all in with his neat, dark eyes and a slit like smile. A mildly terrifying display, and it’s all aimed at Louis.</p><p>“Perplexing?” Louis scoffs, voice controlled but Harry feels the sudden jumpiness under his muscles, “Well, it is quite nice to see you again Zayn. Been a while.” It drips with sarcasm.</p><p>Shit. <em>Shit</em>.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Few years.” Zayn nods, bored as ever. “You’re the same though, time hasn’t shaken up your charms at all.” </p><p>Fuck- <em>no</em>. That- that’s <em>rude</em>? Is it? Harry doesn’t know.</p><p>So he speaks.</p><p>“He is very charming, innit?” Harry gushes, smiley and absolutely unabashed. Four spotlights immediately fall on him (it feels like a goddamn interview, a fucking <em>board </em>meeting), a ticking resonating as the back of his head. “I like that about him, it’s a nice quality.” He mumbles, a little stupidly. </p><p>Louis’ gaze falls from mildly agitated to a sharp and breathless one, hand reaching to clasp Harry’s arm and he’s smiling so big, so utterly beautiful, the crystals hanging off the ceiling diminish to nothing.</p><p>“Well, he’s gone then.” Liam mumbles from the corner of the universe Harry’s staring at, prompting the moment to break and reality to come rushing back instead.</p><p>What- did he just say that!?</p><p>“Hell yeah, i can see why you like him.” Niall provides too, arms crossed and laughing in breathless huffs. A pile of sunshine thrown in the middle of all the anxiety, a stark contrast to Zayn who’s still only watching Louis, still <em>smirking </em>for no damn reason.</p><p>“So, what exactly happened?” Liam perks up before Harry or Louis manage to say anything, instead snapping to look at him, just grinning. Stars lit up in an abyss. “You two? I want to know.”</p><p>Yeah. Yeah, of course he wants to.</p><p>“No hold up, first- why the fuck didn’t you tell me? <em>Us</em>??” Niall sits up, frowning, “That’s why you were constantly stalling! <em>Fuck</em>, Harold. What the fuck.”</p><p>Harry’s pulse quickens as he sits up, feet sinking into the thick carpet and Louis’ body radiating warmth beside him. He blinks, rummaging through the words. It’s so hard, it’s so painfully <em>difficult</em>. “I didn’t… mean to. I just needed some time to get through some stuff. Weird stuff. My perspective on some stuff, almost.” He licks his lips, continuing through the hitches, “We’re going to be in university in a bit lads, I’m going to some elitist institute downtown because dad’s funding all of it and just- it made me a little guilty, you know?” He swallows, terrifyingly honest, “Okay, so, maybe not a little. It did make me feel like shit.”</p><p>A throaty, wet laugh emanates from the front, Harry’s not sure who but he continues anyway, “Yeah, i just didn’t want to be snobbish and come off as a fucked up hypocrite about it. Just.. Needed time to understand some of it. To come to terms with the insecurities I'd feel at times, the fact that I'm a little lost in my own head or I get tired easily, or like, it’s not easy to really <em>say </em>stuff aloud for me. That ended up ruining stuff with my dad since we never spoke and I just felt a little sad and shittty overall, but maybe now, after things are sort of.. Breaking down, almost, i feel like, maybe-” He swallows, eyes glazed and wide, “-maybe it <em>is </em>rathersimple after all.”</p><p>Then, because he’s awkward and taken aback by himself, he adds, “Don’t know why i didn’t realise any of this earlier.” He huffs a short laugh.</p><p>Silence trickles in and the fountain keeps tinkling.</p><p>Niall stares. Liam stares. Zayn looks like his eyeballs might pop right out.</p><p>“<em>All</em> of this happened while I was home every single day, sucking off those sickening popsicles Liam’s smartass purchased?” Niall deadpans.</p><p>“Well, ‘tis not our fault he had something else to suck off.” Liam mumbles, cracking up at his own joke and prompting Niall to clap his back as they burst into childish giggles. Menaces.</p><p>Harry can’t help but smile a bit to himself, everything feels light and giddy and caught in an invigorating trance as Louis moves to hold his hand gently, watching him with a soft wondrous gaze and grinning pleasantly at his mates. He makes it so easy.</p><p>Makes everything so beautiful.</p><p>“So, can we get some food?” Louis claps his hands, leaning forward to watch Niall and Liam with a genuinely pleased smile. He grabs his phone, pouting at the screen and holding it up, “McDonalds? Sounds good?”</p><p>***</p><p>Unsurprisingly, Harry gets pulled aside after a while.</p><p>There’s opened beer cans all over, cool air still fizzing with carbon dioxide and glass plates spread over the coffee table, porcelain crockery piled with french fries, nuggets and greasy burgers, alongside sparse wrappers spread all across the floor, ketchup staining the posh carpet. </p><p>Harry feels too full, too drunk and far too clingy.</p><p>He does feel himself get wrenched from Louis’ side though, he feels Louis’ fingertips slide down the side of his stomach, feels Louis lettinghim go with a soft, understanding smile. No- that.. Harry doesn’t <em>want </em>to leave Louis’ side though, <em>why </em>is he being moved??</p><p>“Come on, big baby.” </p><p>Niall, yes. It’s somehow always Niall when things get tipsy.</p><p>‘Boys like you’ plays from the stereo further away as Harry whines, feeling two more pairs of arms help him to the opposite couch. It’s bright but seemingly dull and the music keeps floating through the drunken haze, Meghan Trainer softly crooning away and Harry sort of wants to fall asleep right there.</p><p>“Harry?” Niall’s partially slurred voice floats through, the blonde lad gently sitting on the carpet, bits of oil staining his lips as he grins up, up at Harry. “I’ve missed you.”</p><p>Harry nearly tears up right there.</p><p>The world is ice and he’s freezing in it’s cold shackles, he’s freezing because he wants to speak up and pray that he doesn’t solely start blubbering or salivating.</p><p>“Not any more than I have!” Liam breaks in, and he pounces, actually <em>leaps </em>off the rolled over position he was in and crashes into Harry, sturdy arms and his beer stained breath entrapping him, “I’ve missed your little sleepy head, missed you being the pup you are. We love that about you.”</p><p>Harry nearly tears up again.</p><p>“Harry?” Niall laughs because yeah. Yeah right, Harry hasn’t said anything yet. He’s just staring through the mess of Liam’s warm body heat, his own inebriated thoughts and the dramatic music that continues playing.</p><p>
  <em>‘Try, try, try, to follow the rules, I break everyone of them with boys like you…’</em>
</p><p>Then Niall moves.</p><p>It’s two pairs of arms tugging at Harry’s limp body at once, grabbing the seams of his thin t-shirt and tugging close to embrace him with such ferocity, such emotion that it <em>burns </em>right through Harry’s skin, down his soul and flooding into his bloodstream.</p><p>Naturally, the tears start streaming.</p><p>“I’ve been such a baby.” He grumbles because it seems appropriate, relishing the breathy laughs it prompts out of the two boys all over him. The beer moves in his system, gushing right at his senses as Harry’s eyelids flutter shut, wetness pooling down his cheeks, reaching his warm neck.</p><p>This is good. It’s all good. It’s going to work fine.</p><p>“Don’t ever stop being one though.” A third voice reaches forth, pushing through the lull.</p><p>Harry’s eyes flicker open, the arms holding him loosening only slightly and then reluctantly parting- to reveal a very smiley, very content Zayn Malik.</p><p>“Don’t ever stop being a baby.” Zayn grins, reaching forward with open arms and an easy smile capable of melting away every trepidation Harry might’ve ever harbored against him. “You’re fucking phenomenal the way you are baby.” He cooes</p><p>“Hey! He’s <em>my </em>baby!” Louis calls out from further away, voice drifting with the music as their body heat clogs the room.</p><p>So much. It’s so much.</p><p>Zayn pulls Harry in for a hug, unhesitant and warm, arms sliding around his dainty waist and burying his face (that fucking diamond cut, sleek <em>face</em>) into tear stained collarbones. His nose has always been so sharp, hasn’t it? So sculpted, so strikingly beautiful.</p><p>Harry lets the warmth envelop him, lets the strong smell of beer fill his lungs as he hiccups and slobbers and pushes forward, refusing to break the embrace. It’s good, it’s so, <em>so </em>good and he doesn’t  ever want to part. </p><p>“Aren’t you the most adorable?” Zayn laughs quietly, petting Harry’s curls while the younger boy keeps slobbering. He lets him cry it out, sniffling and swaying gently as he does. </p><p>“I thought you were mad at me.” Harry slowly whispers into Zayn’s neck, frowning and sniffing. He smells of mild aftershave and Armani perfume. “You don’t hate Louis? My Louis?”</p><p>“Hate is a very strong word H.” Zayn replies, smooth and calm, “Of course I don’t hate him- <em>your </em>Louis, yeah. We even talked for a while back while you were being brought here. It’s all good.” He pauses, sniffling quietly, “I…. I was a little skeptical at first but you do like him a lot, like, you’re proper gone for him.”</p><p>“Am I?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Zayn laughs, “You were drooling over his collarbones a while back actually, before Niall dragged you here.”</p><p>“I’m drunk.”</p><p>“Does that explain it?”</p><p>“No, I do it anyway.” Harry mumbles, prompting laughs out of all three of his mates. </p><p>This is bliss, this is closure, this is everything he’d wanted pieced together as a whole.</p><p>“You know.” Liam edges forward, a kind, amiable expression on his face as he holds Harry’s arm. There’s something low in his voice, a serious undertone to it. “You know Harry, you-” He clicks his tongue, swallowing slightly before speaking, “You had the choice to be a complete dick about your lifestyle, you had the choice to like, be a bitch about it. Have an air about it, you know. But you never-”</p><p>“You were only nice about it though, all of it.” Niall breaks in, eyes softened and voice slurry. He gently rubs Harry’s arm, stars glinting behind the baby blues, “Always fucking unbelievable, nothing like what people would’ve expected you to be. Just… Breaking every single stereotype about rich kids in sunny towns.”</p><p>“And then you go on to feel <em>guilty </em>about it.” Zayn pulls away slightly, voice painfully gentle. Harry’s still being held close though, the universe is perfect and he’s dying. “Just as you couldn’t get any more unbelievable, you tear through all of it and prove us wrong again. That’s what makes you a gem Harry.”</p><p>Time slows down then.</p><p>Harry doesn't remember exactly what happens after, he remembers crying a little (a fuckton) more, he remembers rushing to snuggle into all three arms about fifteen times again, he remembers attempting to explain, to convey gratitude and adoration and <em>anything </em>apart from the sobs and hiccups. But that’s okay, it’s alright because none of them mind his lack of communication through the following hours, instead pulling him close, ruffling his curls and feeding him greasy fries, then playing more music and tipping more beer into his mouth as the world spins, withers and crumbles to bright crystals and alcoholic breaths and a warm, beating heart.</p><p>From right across, Harry watches Louis smile, watches his charming grin with a quiet smile and blue, flickering eyes, laid back and content like the prince he is.</p><p>***</p><p>“Why does alcohol affect me so much?”</p><p>
“Because you’re a very special one.” Louis’ fingers are there, burning through Harry’s hip bones. The world is burning, the living room is on fire, everything’s alight. Bright, bright, bright.</p><p>“<em>My, oh my, doing what i do</em>.” Harry slurs, feeling himself get dragged up, up the staircase? Where are they going? Where’s Louis taking him? <em>Why </em>is Louis taking him?? It’s silent too- fuck. Why is it so silent??</p><p>“Harry, you need to walk.”</p><p>“Why’s it so quiet?”</p><p>“You dozed off babe, everyone left a while back.”</p><p>There’s a pause.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>“Harry?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“You need to walk.”</p><p><em>“YEAH I’M CROSSING EVERY LINE TO GET TO BOYS LIKE YOU!</em>” Harry squeals out instead, falling forward to grab Louis’ face as he feels hands scramble to hold him steady.</p><p>“Yes baby, i know, you’ve <em>already </em>gotten to a boy like me.” Louis laughs, fond and insanely attractive under the bluish, dimming lights. Harry wants to kiss him so bad. “Now your arse needs to get hauled into bed, yeah?”</p><p>“Your arse too.” Harry frowns, completely unsteady. He leans down, stumbling and dropping right to his knees as he watches Louis inhale sharply. Such a pretty sight.</p><p>“As much as I’d fucking love to, Harry, first we go up, okay?” Louis’ voice breaks, hands reaching to hold him up and suddenly there’s insistence, he’s not helping Harry up anymore, he’s dragging, pulling, <em>tugging </em>at him, up and up and up, stumbling into the corridor and colliding into the bedroom door. The embedded lights glow dimmer.</p><p>“<em>Tripping, freaking, falling over boys like you</em>.” Harry sing songs through the giggles, hands finding their way down Louis’ jeans, kissing his collarbones drunkenly and smiling because it’s the easiest thing in the world. </p><p>The room is dark and smells of floral room spray, dripping down Harry’s back and Louis’ naked hip bones, the feeling melting through Harry’s fingers, his lips, his throat as he tugs lower, relishing every sigh and soft moan that escapes from the delicate mouth above, the pliant body leaning against the sleek cupboard. He feels it, all of it.</p><p>And so, Harry lets himself get lost.</p><p>***</p><p>“Maybe I love you.”</p><p>“I think I do too.”</p><p>“It works then, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Louis sits up, face shadowed and melting in a warm smile. The bed bends as he leans over to rest his head on Harry’s chest, whispering softly “It always will.”</p><p>He’s quiet, he’s tired, he’s magnificent.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“For what?” Louis’ eyelashes flicker. He smells like honey and it shouldn’t make sense because they’d drunk so much, just mere hours ago, before the other boys’ left once the night grew darker. But it’s <em>Louis</em>, a constant speck of wonder and he’s enchanting in every way, so Harry doesn’t think too much of it.</p><p>He speaks softly, “For breathing life into me. For always telling me that I feel so much because I am so much.”</p><p>Silence drips in, velvet curtains ruffling against the window, rippling through the damp blues.</p><p>Louis inhales sharply and when he swallows Harry feels the muscle there, feels the soft body on his own skin. “You <em>are </em>so much and....well, it works because I love you either way.” He giggles, lips on Harry’s bare chest and prompting a breathless, adoring laugh from his own wet mouth.</p><p>“It’s going to be perfect, isn’t it?” Harry hums, sleep tugging at his limbs, lulling the air as he sinks into the mattress. Into the cool duvets.</p><p>“Yeah, and it’s going to be forever.” Louis whispers into the silence, bringing Harry’s hand up and intertwining their fingers, resting on his warm, bare chest. Locked pieces of a single, beating heart.</p><p>It <em>is </em>going to be forever.</p><p>So, Harry drifts asleep, with a content smile on his crimson lips and the fluorescent boy he adores entangled in the sheets with him, soft parts interlocking in place, limbs and arms tangled together. And as he closes his eyes, with Louis’ beating heart in his ears and a swell in his chest, he feels faint wonder at the fact that it all started with a picture of the summer’s first apples being sent to the wrong contact.</p><p>
  <strong>~THE END~ </strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! I really hope that was decent x</p><p>My tumblr- <a href="https://hlthemoonknows.tumblr.com/">hlthemoonknows</a></p><p>Love youuu!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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